


To the Hilt

by fanforfanatic



Series: The End's Not Near [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BAMF Original Female Character, Banter, Castiel Has Powers, Castiel has his grace, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Making Love, Mild Smut, No British Men of Letters, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Set in season 12, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut, Sweet Sex, sam winchester is a good brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: When they run into her for the fourth time in a fourth state, Sam and Dean don't think it's a coincidence anymore. Maybe they kidnap her to get to the bottom of things. Maybe they accidentally put her on a path of destruction. Maybe Dean falls in love with her a little. Serves her right for stalking them, to be honest.





	1. The cosmos are screaming in the ears of angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set a few weeks after season 12 episode 3. Disregards men of letters UK. Cas has his grace. Un-beta'd.

When Dean first spots her, her presence doesn’t really register. He ends up doing a double take and then a third one.

“Sam, look.” He says, elbowing his brother.

Sam looks up from his laptop and follows Dean’s gaze to the girl sitting at the diner counter. “Is that...? From the Greyson case?”

“Yeah, and from the salt ‘n burn in Sioux Falls.” He adds tapping Sam’s chest with the back of a hand. “C’mon.” He says and begins to cross the diner from the booth they were sat at. Sam follows suit murmuring about having tested her back in Saint Cloud.

“Are you stalking us?” Dean questions in a gruff voice, getting intimidatingly close to the woman.

She slowly turns in her stool eyes wide. “No?” Her brows furrow. “Are you stalking me?”

Dean scoffs and looks at Sam. _Can you believe this girl? Stalking her?_ He scoffs again for added measure before cutting the crap.

“Cut the crap.” His voice is as gruff as ever. No one sees the girl scissoring her fingers under the counter top. Fleetingly, she thinks she’d make a good lesbian. “We saw you in Sioux Falls.”

“And during the case in Saint Cloud.” Sam contributes.

“The case in...” Her brows furrow again before her face clears up in recognition. “Agents Law and Murphy, right?” She exclaims. “Yeah, we spoke in Minnesota. How’d you know I was in Sioux Falls, though?” She looks over her shoulder suspiciously. “Are the feds having me followed?” Her eyes are wide again as she stares at the boys. “Is it because I illegally stream TV shows? Because I illegally download music?” Her eyes get even wider. “Did you guys check my internet history. Look I know it’s wrong but-”

“It has nothing to do with your internet habits.” Sam interrupts.

Dean smirks knowingly.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” A waitress says depositing a monster-sized burger in front of her with a side of fries and the most decadent looking milkshake. She eyes the boys distrustingly since they are, y’know, crowding a girl menacingly, but then just eyes them appraisingly because they are, y’know, gorgeous. With one last look, she leaves, leaving the trio alone.

“Sammy,” Dean starts, foaming at the mouth. “She got an Elvis.”

The girl’s eyes light up. “You know about the Elvis!” She says eyeing her plate, salivating as much as, if not more so than Dean.

“Dean, focus.” Sam reprimands. 

Dean clears his throat and begrudgingly tears his eyes away from the feast. “Ain’t no sense in lying to us, sweetheart.”

“What are you?” Sam inquisitions, seeming intimidating for the first time.

The girl hesitates for a moment before finally replying, uncertain. “A blogger?”

“A blogger? What’s that? Like a mutant? If I cut you right here will you ooze green goo?” Dean asks, jumping the gun only a little.

The girl recoils.

“No, Dean, I think she means a blogger. Like online. She has a website.” Sam clarifies,sighing at his brother. However, the suspicion doesn't leave his eyes.

The girl nods vigorously. “Mhmm, yeah, look.” She hands them the notepad neither had noticed on the counter.

“This is just your opinion on food.” Dean deadpans.

“Mhmm, yeah.” She repeats. “It’s a food blog. Well, mostly anyway.”

“So what you just eat different food and write about it online?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You get paid for it?” Dean asks simultaneously astounded, amazed and jealous. “That’s a job?”

The girl nods and lets out a small airy laugh. “A damn good one at that.”

“It still doesn’t explain why we’ve seen you in two different towns,” Sam starts, shaking his head at his brother. “And, now again, in Nelson city.”

“Not a city. Just Nelson, methinks.” She quips. “Nelson town?” She second guesses herself drawing a sip through the straw of her milkshake, eyes rolling back. She misses Sam’s lighthearted glare at being corrected.

The waitress returns. “Will you boys want your order at your table or will here be alright?” She asks.

“Can we have it to go?” Sam responds.

“You can have whatever you like, sugar.” The waitress, maybe 30 years his senior, winks and sways her hips while walking away.

“Stacks on deck, patron on ice, you can have whatever you like.” The girl murmurs and hums, toying with her straw. The waitress would probably rock the fed's world.

Looking back at the boys she sees them have a conversation seemingly consisting solely of facial muscle movements. She’d think it comical if she wasn’t still afraid that the government had peeked at her porn preferences and decided to intervene.

_Blog about food. Not the supernatural._

_Yeah. And she was clean during the Greyson case in Saint Cloud._

_But doubt it’s a coincidence. Suspicious._

_Not much we can do, now._

_Alright. You should have let me get an Elvis too._

_You’re gonna die of a heart attack._

That was that. The boys apologised for bothering her. She said it was no big deal and offered to cover their bill, least she could do for national heroes. They told her they were FBI not military. She said they were New York’s finest and not to let anyone tell them otherwise. Then she grunted the words ‘nine nine’. The boys left.

-

When Robin spots him, _Agent Law_ , her mind zeroes in immediately. She had driven only over an hour after leaving the diner with a belly full of food but unfortunately a tank bare of gas. So she’d stopped at a gas station in Lebanon, Kansas, as one does.

She's leaving the nasty-ass bathroom, regretting not having used the bathroom back at the diner, when she sees him. He’s rounding the corner of the gas station building, maybe to get to the bathroom himself. Maybe to get to the ice machine. Maybe to get to her. Alarms ring in her head because running into someone four times in four different states wasn’t a thing that happened. Which made it clear to her that she was running into some _thing_. Immediately she scouts the space for contingency plans, doing her best to dampen the sound of the bells in her head.

He’s distracted looking down at his receipt, a plastic bag and a bucket in hand (one he’ll probably want to use for her guts), so she strikes. She pushes him against the brick wall with more force than she appears to have and has a small switchblade to his neck in a matter of seconds.

Dean is taken off guard but what really startles him is when the girl spits the word ‘Christo’ at him. He attempts to shove her off and is surprised when she shoves him back harder, effectively pinning him.

“What are you? Why are you following me? I’m out of the business dammit.” She speaks calmer than a person pinning a strange man twice her size to a wall, with a knife to his neck, should speak, Dean thinks. Though, as steady as she keeps her voice, her eyes shift distractedly when they aren't squinting at him. It's as if she can't see him clearly despite her face being no more than a few inches away from his.

She’s about to press the knife into his skin, _yeah show him I mean business,_ when a blow to the head knocks her out. She falls into Dean’s arms nicking him just a bit with the blade.

Dean drops her to the ground, carelessly, and raises an eyebrow at his brother. “You hit her with a book?”

“Would you have preferred I did nothing?” Sam suggests mildly irritated.

“I don't know, man, you could have found a rock or something,” Dean replies, touching his neck with the tip of two fingers, feeling a bit of blood there. “Bitch cut me.”

“Somehow, I feel that you’ll get over it.” Sam looks down at the crumpled body on the ground. “What are we thinking? Demon?”

Dean peers down at the girl, as well. She might be around twenty-five. “I don’t know, but we’re taking her to the bunker and finding out. Help me.”

The brothers each grab a pair of limbs, Dean hooking an arm in the handles of his fallen plastic bag, abandoning the bucket he wanted to fill with ice, and they carry her to the trunk of the impala. 

“St Cloud. Sioux falls. Nelson city. Nelson town. Whichever. And now fifteen minutes from the bunker? Something is definitely going on.” Sam says, mostly thinking aloud, as he shuffles backwards towards their car.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Look," Dean nods towards the edge of the gas station's lot. "There was a pipe right there. You should have used that.” He grumbles.

All Sam does is roll his eyes. They hadn’t been back at the bunker in weeks, which has made them both more than a little irritable. They had gone out for a case, to keep busy after their mom left the bunker for _space_ and  _time,_  and on their way back they kept getting wrapped up in strange hunts. Even the salt ‘n burn Jodie had called them about was supposed to be simple and straightforward before it took a weird turn. Suffice it to say that Sam was looking forward to some down time. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. He sighs and tosses the body in the trunk. He doesn't know it, but he bruises her and when the time comes, she's going to bitch about it.

-

When Robin comes to, she’s cuffed to a chair. _Of fucking course._ She’s in what appears to be a cellar or sorts, _naturally,_ surrounded by sigils and markings. Her heart sinks as she scans each and every one of them. Relief washes over her as she recognises them all, assured that none of them can hold her. She hears a heavy door open and then a pair of shelves rattle as they're parted. _Game face._

“You’re up,” Dean says, entering the room alone, a glint in his eyes.

“I am, Agent Law, was it?” She scoffs.

“Alright, you got me,” Dean responds with a breathtaking smile that's only a little sinister, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Not FBI.”

“No shit, asswipe. So why don’t you tell me what you are, what you want and why I shouldn’t tear you to shreds.” She snaps, a glint of her own in her eyes.

Dean laughs, _laughs._ “I don’t think you understand how this works. You,” He says pointing at her. “Prisoner. Helpless, weak. At my mercy. Me,” He points to himself. “Holding all the cards.”

“Do you wanna rev your engine too, you pseudo-macho bag of dicks.”

“I just have the one, but it works like a charm, thanks.”

She doesn’t blush because he’s not devastatingly gorgeous and _fuck him._

“Could have fooled me.” She jeers eyeing his crotch as if searching for something.

He glares at her. “Alright, alright. Enough foreplay.” He places a metal chair, identical to her own, in front of her, sitting on it backwards to face her. “You’re not a demon, a ghost mid-possession, a werewolf, or any kind of shifter for that matter, a vamp or any other number of things.” He sees her face contort with each monster he names, eyes shifting to the left and right. Her expression smoothes over when he’s done.

“Yeah, I know I’m none of those things.” She says like he’s wasting both of their time.

“Quit smart mouthing me.” A lilt of anger in his tone. “The only reason we’re still talking and I’m not hacking away at you is because I’m not sure if you’re using some poor schmuck as a meat suit.”

She wants to argue that he’s bad at being a villain because he isn’t making much sense but her eyes fall to a table on the far right. It's littered with torture devices and tools, some of her least favourite things. She thinks she is both too young and too old for this crap.

“Look around, sweetheart,” Dean continues. “you’re not getting out of here.”

_Is he bragging?_ “Are you talking about the sigils?” She asks, confused, waving at the room with her head.

He nods with a smirk.

“You know those can’t keep me right?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He demands, irritated. This couldn’t be simple, could it? They couldn't ever just catch a damn break. “What do you mean?” He snaps when she’s too busy looking confused to answer.

“What do _you_ mean ‘what do I mean’? These are all for things that go,” She rolls her eyes. “Bump in the night. They don’t trap humans, doucheface.”

“Human? What are you-” Dean is interrupted by another man entering the room.

This one is taller, _Agent Murphy._ “Did you get anything out of her?”

“She’s claiming she’s human,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Behind him, Sam rolls his eyes too, and the girl almost laughs at the resemblance. 

She doesn't laugh, though, too busy being goddamn _shook_. “What do you mean claims?” She all but screeches. “If you think I’m not human, why’d you kidnap me if it isn’t to suck my blood or eat my heart or some bullshit?”

“You _attacked_ me.” Dean roars, rising from his seat and tossing the chair aside. He points to the smallest cut ever on his neck.

“Boohoo, Princess.” She derides. “Does your kind not have fast healing?” She tilts her head to the side, faking concern.

“That's it,” Dean says moving towards her and sticking an arm out. “Sam, hand me a knife. Get me the one that spins like a pizza cutter.”

“Wait, wait, Dean.” Sam asserts holding his brother back. “What do you mean ‘your kind’?” He directs the question at the girl.

“What do you _mean,_ what do I mean?” She echoes her earlier words in exasperation. “Is this some kind of new age psychological torture tactic, because I gotta tell you- Wait.” _Sam. Dean._ They’d referred to each other as Sam and Dean at the diner too. _No. No fucking way. They’re not-_ “Winchester? You’re Sam and Dean Winchester?”

“So you’ve heard of us.” Sam states.

“Who hasn’t?” Dean says earning himself a glare from both present parties. “Instilled the fear of God in you yet, sweetheart?”

“Ew, no.” She quips and Sam laughs which earns him a glare of his own. “No, listen. I think we got mixed up. I’m a hunter too. Or, err, at least I was. I’m definitely human.”

“Mmm sounds fake but okay.” Dean taunts.

“Really?” Sam asks, looking at him incredulously. “I really need to limit your computer access.”

The girl laughs and promptly recoils when Dean takes a step towards her, one hand fisted. He’s only stopped by the hand of his brother on his shoulder. She snickers.

“So you mind giving us your name then?” Sam says. “If you’re a hunter, we’d have heard of you.”

“I’m not- I used to hunt. I stopped about a year and a half ago.”

“Hunter don’t stop hunting.” Dean deadpans.

“Well, I did.” She snaps, then sighs. “My name’s Robin.”

“Haven’t heard of you. Can I kill her, now?”

Sam and Robin roll their eyes.

“You’re gonna need to give us more to work with here. You could easily be trying to play us.” Sam explains, almost too agreeable.

“Probably the case,” Dean mutters.

“Come on, you tested me right?”

“She has a point, Dean. Nothing pointed to her being anything but human.”

“Except the fact that she came at me with a knife.” Dean points to his neck again.

_“_ I thought you had followed me across four fucking states.” She responded, dangerously close to whining. “Look I’m telling you, this is all a big mistake. Call anyone who knew Bobby. I know you guys were close. He wouldn’t shut up about _his boys_.” She says rolling her eyes, but there’s fondness there. “Most who knew him know me.”

The boys share a look. Then, Sam leaves to check out her story. Dean plops back in the chair, now off to the left.

“Y’know if this doesn’t pan out, I’m really going to enjoy ripping the answers I want out of you.”

“I’m sure you will, Deanold.”

‘Deanold’ He mouths to himself. _Does she mean I’m old or is this a twist on Donald?_

She laughs. “You’re cute when you’re feeling dejected. Looks good on you.” She winks.

“Y’know what’d look good on you?”

“Tell me.”

“Duct tape.”

She laughs. “I resent that. I’m literally adorable.”

“You’re literally still possibly murderous.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come at me with _rolling_  knives. Any excuse to touch me, I guess.” She replies with a shimmy of her hips. She laughs at the slightest blush that creeps past the collar of his shirt.

He’s about to retort when the door wails open, again. 

“Her story checks out,” Sam says, looking solemn.

“Finuh-fucking-ly.” She says bouncing to her feet, cuffs dangling off a finger. “Ouh, think I can keep these?” She asks noticing the warding on them.

Dean is back on his feet just as quick. “How’d you get out of-”

She silences him with a wink. “Wait ‘till you see what I can do with rope.” She presses the restraints into Dean’s hands and struts out of the room.

He’s about to stalk after her when Sam stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Really, he needs to stop fucking doing that.

“Dean, she’s...she’s Robin Fera.” He says looking sad.

“Well, shit.”

-

When the boys leave the cellar it’s to find Robin in the library. 

“This place is amazing.” She says looking around. “I guess I don’t have to tell you guys that, huh?” She smiles looking back at them. “I won’t ask too many questions, I know a top secret HQ when I see one, but can you, hmm I don’t know, point me in the direction of my car? Also, I had my phone on me when I was kidnapped.” She puts a hand on her hip and winces. She lifts her t-shirt just a bit to see a bruise forming there. “Seriously? I was unconscious, why’d you feel the need to be brutes.”

Sam gives her a sheepish look and goes to fetch her phone from one of the shelves lining the walls.

Dean smirks. “Looks good on you.”

Instead of retorting like he expects her to, she laughs. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It rattles Dean a bit.

Wings flutter.

“Hey, Cas. We have company. This is-”

“Dean.” Castiel starts with his characteristically deep voice. Robin eyes him. She knew the Winchester had an angel, Bobby had told her all about that too, not to mention the rumours, but to be so close to one that isn't trying to attack her was a whole other thing. “The cosmos are out of balance. They’re screaming in our ears. Our metaphorical ears. It’s deafening.” He deadpans. To the acute observer, the twinge of pain in his features would be obvious.

“Who’s screaming in who’s ears?” Sam asks, returning and handing Robin her phone. She pockets it.

“The cosmos. In the metaphorical ears of the angels. Heaven is in chaos.”

“What else is new?” Dean asks while sighing. Already resigned to what the next few weeks will look like.

Sharply and suddenly, Castiel’s whole body snaps towards Robin. His eyes narrow, sizing her up. It’s as if he’s trying to peer into her soul, she thinks. Can angels do that?

“It’s all because of her.” He adds and hand-to-God points at her. The boys turn to her and she thinks they might be peering into her soul too.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me with your best shot (by shot I mean comments) (or you could shoot me because my heart weeps for these boys and life is hard bye)


	2. It's stainless steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for choosing to read the second chapter. That makes you hella cool in my book.  
> Just a few notes: Castiel has his full grace in my head canon. The story is set a few weeks after Marie leaves, in episode three. It disregards basically everything else in the season. Not beta'd. (barely spell checked tbh)  
> Enjoy :)

“Wait, so the cosmos are screaming?”

“Yes.”

“In your ears?”

“Yes. Metaphorically.”

“Are the ears metaphorical or is the yelling metaphorical?”

“Both. In a way. The yelling less so. It’s complicated.”

“So what are they? It? Screaming about?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?"

“It’s not a phone call. Clarity is lacking.”

“Awesome. The universe-”

“The cosmos.”

“ _The cosmos_ need to upgrade to cellular,” Robin speaks for the first time, having let the brothers bombard the angel with questions so far. “Fantastic. Great stuff, really. It was nice meeting you all. Loved it. Love the place. Love this.” She waves at Castiel’s customary bed hair, though new to her. “I’ll just skedaddle.” She shuffles towards the front of the room where she thinks the exit might be. _Those stairs have to lead somewhere._ “I’ll find my way. Don’t worry about it, I’ll let myself out.”

“You can’t go,” Cas says, stepping towards her, prepared to take action if need be.

“Why not?” She sighs, knowing her exit was unlikely from the get-go.

“Because,” Cas starts. “Amidst the noise, the chaos and the distress in the message from the cosmos, one thing rings out clear as day, Robin Fera. Your name.”

The room is quiet as Castiel waits for a reply. They’re still standing in the library, the large room somehow feeling even vaster with the weight of the bomb Cas dropped.

“So does this happen often around here?” Robin speaks. “Big worldly issues with words like Cosmos and Heaven thrown around?”

Sam laughs and thinks he might cry just a little. They just finished with God’s family drama and they had to deal with their own, with their mom, but of course the goddamn universe needs saving again.

“More than you’d think,” Dean replies, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tired half smile.

“Were you all aware of the situation?” Cas asks. “The odds of her being here already when I appeared are,” He pauses. “slim.”

Dean sighs heavily, rubbing at his face with both hands as if trying to rid himself of the exhaustion. “No, Cas. News to us.” He answers and moves to sit at the table closest to him.

“We ran into Robin...a few times. Four to be exact.” Sam supplies at Cas’ confusion, joining his brother by sitting at the head of the table and waving for Cas and Robin to take seats of their own.

Robin walks around to sit across from Dean. “Look, I’m still not convinced this has anything to do with me but if, big if, it does, do we think maybe running into each other four times wasn’t a coincidence?”

“You think something brought you to the Winchesters?” Cas inquires, opting to lean over the chair to the right of Dean, his fists poised on the table to support his weight.

“Or the Winchesters to me.” Dean scoffs at her words and she glares in response but there’s no heat. “Or me to the angel in a trench coat.” She thinks for a second. “Maybe we weren’t purposefully drawn to each other.” She says, thinking out loud more than anything else. “Maybe we were just brought to the same places.”

“I feel like you’re playing a game of semantics.” Dean groans.

“All I’m saying is that you weren’t stalking me. I wasn’t stalking you. Why were we all in the same towns in buttcrack nowhere America, around the same time?”

‘Buttcrack nowhere,’ Cas mouths to himself in confusion.

“Sam and I were hunting. We kept getting called to check out leads other hunters found but were too far to deal with. Why were you there, in those towns, specifically?” Dean explains and then asks.

Sam interjects before she gets to reply. “Worth noting, I think, that the cases were pretty weird. I mean the woman in white that kept kidnapping adult women instead of kids and men. The kitsune that killed but didn’t feed on its victims. The wendigo. Usually, they stick to the woods but the one we killed three weeks ago was content lurking in town. None of that is their MO. Maybe the universe really is out of whack.”

“The cosmos.” Cas corrects. Sam looks at him sheepishly. “But you’re right Sam. That is strange.”

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asks looking at Robin. “You’re pale as a ghost.”

“Did you say a woman in white?" Robin checks, ignoring Dean's concern. "Was that in Superior? And the kitsune was in Minneapolis? And then a wendigo in Rochester? Was there also a coven in Austin and a Wraith in -”

“Yeah, yeah. Yes. How do you know all that? Were you there? In the same towns as us even then? Were you working the cases?” Sam pelts her with questions.

“I was there, yeah. I called it in.” They look confused. “There are these hunters I used to work with. They’ve been doing this for a while, know a lot of the hunters still around. So whenever I come across something that's clearly a case, I give them a call and they try to get someone in the area to take care of it.”

“You don’t do it yourself?” Dean asks with an accusatory edge.

“I don’t hunt anymore.” She says, voice small.

“Hunters don’t stop hunting.” His tone is hard.

“Well, I did.” She snaps, unwilling to take his shit.

“Alright alright. Everyone cool it.” Sam intervenes giving his brother a look when it seems like he’s about to continue. “The hunters you mentioned. Marcus and James?”

“Yeah that’s them.”

“They’re who've been calling us.” Sam confirms.

“They’ve called us more in the past few weeks than they have in the past few years.” Dean points out.

Robin ignores his implication. “So what does it mean? Is it like a cosmic coincidence that isn’t really a coincidence at all? Or is it a human coincidence as in we just happened to be in the same area and they ended up trailing me from case to case?” She looks at Castiel when she asks this, thinking that if someone had the answer it would be the angel in the trench coat.

He shrugs.

“Do the angels know anything else Cas?” Sam asks. “Was there any more information in the...screams?”

Castiel winces as if mentioning them brought them to the forefront of his mind, again. The message plays on a loop in the background of his brain. “The angels are trying to make sense of what else is being said. The message is distorted.”

Sam nods. “Alright. Will they keep us posted? Are they willing to work with us on this?”

Castiel has been working on mending bridges with the angels since God's return and departure. It's where he was when the screaming began.

He nods. “I think they’re desperate.”

-

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” Sam asks. “Dean and I can go get your car now if you want. Get your stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s been a long day, Sam. I can take care of it in the morning.” They’re in one of the bedrooms of the seemingly endless bunker. She looks around and it’s shade’s of grey and tones of wood. Mostly bare and coated with a light layer of dust. “I’ve got everything I need.” She smiles and turns back to him waving around the spare change of clothes and toothbrush he had given her.

“Okay good. Don’t hesitate to let me know if anything comes up.” He offers kindly.

“I won’t, Samwell. Samford? I’ll work on it.” She assures upon witnessing his scandalised expression. “I’m great at nicknames.”

“I’m sure you are.” He laughs, moving to leave.

“Hey before you go, I was thinking about what Dean said and-”

“Seriously, Robin, don’t let it get it to you. Dean can be a little... Look there’s no shame in stepping away from the hunter life. Dean, he doesn’t even mean it, he-”

“Oh god. No, Sam, I’m not talking about that.”

“Oh.”

“Earlier, Dean said you guys were getting more calls than usual and it made me realise I’ve been coming across more cases in the past few weeks, too. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I used to stumble on a ghoul or a vamp or what have you a few times a month but a few weeks ago it increased to the point that it was every other day. Almost every town I went to. And when I really think about it, it almost happened over night.”

“Alright, okay. This is good. Well not _good,_ but y’know. I’ll run it by Cas in the morning. See if there’s a surge of evil activity on a larger scale.”

“Cool, thank you.” She lifts the boxers- she was told they're from a new pack,- the t-shirt and toothbrush again. “For these too.”

“Don’t mention it. Goodnight.” He smiles warmly at her.

“‘Night.”

 

Robin has just finished changing into the clothes she’d been given, dark green plaid boxers and a grey t-shirt, when there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in.” She chimes. “Hey Dean.” She smiles.

“Hey,” Dean smirks, just because, and leans on the door frame. “Did Sam perform his welcoming ceremony.”

She laughs blithely. Dean thinks it sounds nice. “Y’know, I’m a little surprised you guys don’t mind me bunking with you. We’re not exactly old friends and hunters aren’t known to be trusting.” She raises an eyebrow at him, cocking a hip and leaning against the desk. Her arms cross, unwittingly mirroring the Winchester.

“Bobby vouched for you.” Her brows furrow at his words. “I skimmed some of his journals after Cas left, he wrote about you more than I would have thought. I’m surprised I never noticed it before. All good things too.”

“Ha! Bobby doesn’t have strictly good things to say about anyone. The man couldn’t help himself but to insult.” She says the laugh returning as an undertone to her voice.

“No lie there. Still, there are exceptions to every rule. Just how close were you two?”

Robin shrugs. “Not _you_ close. Gosh he wouldn’t shut up about you and Sam.” She teases. “But close.” A familiar bittersweet feeling washes over her. One that comes quickly, whenever she thinks about those who’ve past, and then leaves just as fast.

Dean nods and shifts the topic. “Anyway, don’t worry about it. We have plenty of room, no sense in wasting it.” He assures lifting a hand to brush through his hair, still damp from the shower he’d had.

Robin notices the flex of muscles in his upper arm, poorly concealed by the soft flesh there. “Thanks.” She says, her mouth dry and her eyes moving to observe his broad shoulders. Dean smirks. “Could you, um, could you,” She rips her eyes away from him, turning towards the desk and, despite the surface being completely clear save for a lamp, fumbles to pick up the toothbrush she’d placed there, still in its package. “Show me where the bathroom is?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He straightens himself into an upright position and waves her through the door, still occupying most of the space within the frame, the smirk not leaving his face. 

She crosses the room slowly and wedges herself between his body and the spot he was leaning against a moment ago, eyes level with his lips. She pauses for a moment, clutching the toothbrush, and her eyes flick up to his.

Dean feels heat radiating off of her and seeping through his shirt, their bodies not quite touching. He’s surprised to find himself holding his breath, the smirk now long gone.

“Thanks.” She breathes. Then, the warmth is gone and she’s a few steps down the hall, looking at him over her shoulder. “This way?”

“Yeah.” He croaks and quickly clears his throat. “Yes.”

He follows her, admiring the way her body moves and the way the clothing shifts andhangs off of her, until he’s by her side, the already familiar heat now caressing his arm. They’re not touching, but they’re closer than strictly necessary.

“This is it.” He says after making a turn and rapping his knuckles on the first door. “My room is the last one on the left.” He continues, nodding towards the end of the hall. “Should you need... company.” He finishes suggestively and winks before sauntering off.

She watches him walk, until he disappears behind another wooden door, before entering the bathroom.

Dean can’t keep the grin off his face as he prepares for bed. _This is going to be nice. A little flirting. A little world saving._ The last time he’d felt the pull of attraction like this was with Amara and there was nothing healthy about that. This time around, there’s no guilt, no shame. He chuckles at how flustered she was, a stark contrast to the woman in the cellar who had managed to make him blush and who’d made promises concerning rope. He falls into, a well deserved, deep sleep with thoughts of pretty girls and a simpler life on his mind.

-

The next morning, it’s the sound of a tornado that leads a freshly woken up Robin to the kitchen. She decides, with her inexistent well of knowledge regarding decor, that the room is industrial retro and that she likes it.

“Morning.” She greets rubbing crust out of an eye. _That’s hot._ She thinks to herself in her best Paris Hilton voice.

“Hey! Morning.” Sam asks, toweling dry a blender. He’s wearing a grey tank, shorts and sneakers. Robin notices the sheen of sweat on his skin. She looks to the stove for the time. 

“Jesus, you already got a workout in?” She commends plopping into a chair. “Maybe that’s why you and you’re brother are the best in the business.”

Sam laughs. “Actually, Dean’s philosophy on exercise is that if it’s not with the goal of ganking something, it shouldn’t be happening.”

“Maybe _that’s_ why you two are the best. Good attitude to have.”

Sam laughs again starting on a pot of coffee. “How’d you sleep?”

“Soundly. Thanks again for letting me crash.”

“Don’t mention it. You should stay until we have this whole... cosmos thing... figured out.” He suggests leaning against the wall as the coffee machine rumbles. He doesn't say that it'd probably ease Cas' mind. He doesn't want to make her feel like she doesn't have a choice.

“Are you sure, I don’t wanna imp-”

“We’re sure.” Dean says, appearing at the kitchen entrance in his robe. “It’ll make everything easier, too.” He explains, walking to the fridge where he finds nothing but stale bread, left overs gone bad and condiments. 

“Plus, I’m delightful.” She deadpans making both brothers chuckle.

“We have to go on a supply run, Sam.” Dean says. “The only edible thing in that refrigerator is questionable mustard. That’s what we get for being on the road for, what, two months? Give or take.” He sighs.

“Tell me about it. Alright, we’ll do that, pick up some breakfast, get Robin’s car and then start on some research.” He plans, overtly excited about the last part.

“Nerd.” Both Robin and Dean jest in unison. They share a look and exchange smirks as though they were in great cahoots. Sam rolls his eyes pouring coffee into two mugs. 

“Meet in the front in twenty.” Dean orders, taking one of the cups out of Sam’s hand and walking out of the kitchen, ignoring Sam’s ‘That was mine.’

‘The front?’ Robin mouths at Sam, approaching him.

He hands her the second cup of coffee and turns to pour himself his own (again) . “By the stairs in that room before the library.”

She nods and raises the mug in thanks before leaving the kitchen. She makes her way back to the bedroom-  _her bedroom?-_ focusing on taking the right hallways and making the right turns.

 

Twenty minutes later she finds the boys waiting at the foot of an imposing iron staircase. Sam changed into a button down and jeans, his hair wet and he's holding reusable grocery store bags. Dean was wearing a black fitted t-shirt and jeans looking sinful as hell. She tries not to think of the underwear she hasn't changed yet. She also tries not to think about how frumpy she looks in comparison, having only pulled on the jeans she wore the day before and tucked in the shirt they lent her to sleep in.

The three make their way to the impala.

“That's a sweet ride." She compliments. "You wouldn't happen to be too tired to drive by any chance?” She asks in, what she thinks is, a sly manner.

Dean laughs. Laughs as he unlocks the doors. Laughs as he slips into his seat. Laughs while looking at Robin through the rearview mirror. Five minutes later, while they’re on the road, he laughs a bit more. 

“Okay! I get it, Jesus.” Robin exclaims, rolling her eyes hard enough it hurts, though there’s a smile toying at her lips.

“Dean doesn’t let anyone drive Baby.” Sam explains.

“Baby? Oh brother.” She rolls her eyes again, the smile still lingering.

“Hey! Don't disrespect Her or I swear I will serve you up on a platter to the Fates or the Cosmos, or whoever the fuck they’re warning us about, myself.”

“Alright, alright. Christ.” She apologizes. “Boys and their toys, I guess.” She adds more to herself. “Wait ‘till you see my wheels.” She continues, now speaking to the brothers.

“Oh no we saw your car yesterday, nothing to brag about.”

She sighs. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence then they’re all laughing. Robin thinks it might be at her expense but she isn’t bothered by it. Eventually, they stop at Lebanon Groceries and Supplies just long enough for Sam to get out of the car.

“Huh, so we are still in Kansas.” She says, climbing over the back of the front seat to ride shotgun. She has a brush with death when she nearly knees the driver. Or at least that's what the glare Dean shoots her implies.

“Watch it, Jesus. You’re all limbs, huh?” He teases, eyes crinkled into a smile.

“Rude. I’m literally the most graceful.” She counters, forcing herself not to stick her tongue out childishly.

“Sure.” He scoffs. “So you thought we weren’t in Kansas anymore?” He asks, driving out of the lot.

“Yeah, I figured maybe you had taken me- You just wanted to say that didn’t you?”

He laughs, pleased with himself. “Pretty much.”

“You’re lame.”

“I’m literally the coolest.” He mocks, echoing her earlier words.

“Sure.”

They drive in comfortable silence until Dean puts some music on. The rest of the drive is just as comfortable but less quiet with Robin humming the melodies at times and Dean singing all of the words just under his breath.

When they pull up to the gas station she spots her car and the feeling of _home_ hits her. Dean surprises Robin by getting out of the impala too.

“I’m gonna go get some ice.” He explains, looking at her over the top of the car. “We left it yesterday, after, y’know...”

“Deciding to kidnap me for no goddamn reason.” She facilitates with pep, her hair whipping around in the breeze.

“Yeah, that.” He says with a smirk, thinking she looks like a something you'd find in the wild, then turns to walk towards the small store.

She rolls her eyes but then realises something. “Hey wait,” She calls trailing after him. “Where’d you put my keys?”

“We left them in your car.” He says not bothering to turn.

She freezes. “You what.” She runs to catch up to him, entering the building. “YOU-” She interrupts herself, starting again at a lower volume, tone just as dangerous. “You left my keys in the car. It could have gotten stolen.” She follows him down the main aisle towards the back where the fill-them-yourself-containers for the ice are.

“It didn’t.”

“Not the point.” She argues.

“We’re in Kansas. No one steals. ‘Sides, have you seen your car?”

“Valid points.” She concedes, the indignation evaporating out of her.

He looks at her, holding back a chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Yeah, I’m over it.” She shrugs.

They hear what sounds like someone pumping a shotgun at the front of the store and they both turn towards the sound instinctively. Dean already has a hand behind his back wrapped around the handle of the knife he keeps in the waistband of his pants. Robin crouches some, in a fighting position, but also, ready to haul ass. 

They both see the cashier, a guy in his early twenties, holding the gun. His gaze is trained on Robin. Their eyes lock and tension fills the air. Dean is about to speak, talk him out of whatever it is he thinks he’s doing, when there’s a flash in the boys eyes. The same boy Dean has bought gas, ice, candy bars and beer from more times than he can count. Stuart, Dean thinks his name is.

“Skinwalker.” Dean and Robin say together. He turns to her, a grin on his face, ready to tag team and have fun with the kill. The grin dissipates however when he notices distress in her profile.

“Fera.” The skinwalker speaks, cocking his head to the side. “We want you dead.”

Dean grabs Robin’s elbow and they both jump into the aisle just as a shot is fired. They’re low to the ground when they hear the pump of the shotgun, again. Dean looks at Robin. Her eyes are flickering in all directions, her pupils refusing to stay still.

Dean snaps his fingers in front of her face, getting her to focus. “You okay?” His voice is gruff.

She nods. “Yeah.” And then with conviction. “Yes. Let’s gank the fucker.” She grins.

“Fera.” The shifter speaks again. Closer this time, like he’d moved in front of the counter. “We want you dead.”

With a wink Dean’s way, Robin is on her feet rounding the aisles and running towards the monster.

“Shit,” Dean says amused, shaking his head, before mimicking her and heading in the other direction.

She gets to Stuart first, pushing his weapon upward and away from her and Dean. She knees him, and lands a few good punches before he flings her away at Dean’s approach with the knife. She manages to hold on to the gun and immediately aims it at the monster, trying to get a clean shot. Her vision is clouded by a familiar dark smoke. It starts at the periphery of her vision but seeps into the center front quickly. She can just barely make out the hunter and the shifter fighting. She hears more than she sees Dean thrash the boy onto the first row of shelves, making it tilt and fall. Dean inflicts several wounds, but Stuart isn’t deterred. In fact, he’s not so much fighting back as he is trying to get to Robin. She shakes her head, focuses and takes the shot. The bullet whistles through the air and lodges itself in the cashier’s temple, doing no more than slowing him down.

“Find silver.” Dean grunts, narrowly dodging a jab and then breaking one of the boys ribs.

Robin removes the magazine, pockets it and drops the gun, then dashes into the aisles. She spots a box set of utensils and runs back to Dean with a knife. She’d only taken her eyes off of them for a moment but upon her return, she finds the shifter much more bloodied. 

“Impressive.” She compliments before planting the knife into Stuart’s eye, hitting brain matter in the process.

For a moment everything freezes. Robin squints trying to see clearer, past the fog in her eyes. Stuart twitches his lips curling into a monstrous smile. 

“It’s stainless steel.” She concludes alarmed. “It’s stainless steel!” She repeats for emphasis. 

The skinwalker roars. Legit roars and launches Dean and Robin off of him. Dean crashes through the glass door and Robin hits the opposing wall, crumpling to the ground. She eyes the gun that’s only a few feet away and thumbs at the magazine, still tucked away in her pocket.

Stuart strides over to her, the table knife still sticking out of his left eye socket. Bloodstreams down his cheek, like tears. The rest of him is a mess. _Boy, Dean did a number on him._

“Fera.” He repeats for the third time. “We want you dead.”

She sighs dramatically with exasperation. “Why?” She almost whines.

He stops walking and cocks his head to the side again. He looks confused like he hadn't considered needing a reason for wanting to kill her.  Robin doesn’t wait for him to catch up and within seconds she has the shotgun loaded and the barrel pressed onto his forehead. It wouldn’t kill him, but it’ll do some damage. Hard to operate with your brains blown off. She doesn’t get the chance to pull the trigger though, because one moment he’s there, at gun point, and the next his body falls to the ground, his head rolls on the floor before the handle of the knife acts as a stopper. Behind where he once stood, there’s Dean grinning and bloodstained. 

“Keep him down.” He orders. “I’m gonna get a silver blade from the car.”

She nods, grinning back at him. Her face is splattered with blood from the beheading and her hair is wild around her face sticking in every which direction. Dean thinks she looks charming. He winks and heads out. Robin can see clearly again. The store is bathed in sunlight and she can appreciate the mess they’ve made. She watches Dean walk out. The bell above the door rings when he chooses to push it open instead of stepping through the glassless frame. She looks down at Stuart and prods the knife in his eye with the barrel of the gun.

“Ew.”

-

“What happened?” Sam asks a little worried but mostly unimpressed when he climbs into the impala. He looks over his brother’s state and decides there’s no real injuries.

“Did you get pie?”

“What happened?” Sam demands.

“Did you get pie?” Dean repeats, driving out of the small parking lot of _Lebanon Groceries and Supplies_.

“ _Yes,_ Dean. I got you pie. It’s in the trunk with all the other stuff. Like it always is. Every time I get stuff.”

“Just making sure.” Dean says, just to annoy his brother. 

“So what happened?” Sam asks.

“Skinwalker.”

“Is Robin okay?” Sam suddenly remembers, checking the backseat even though he knows she isn’t in the car. He feels a little guilty for forgetting about her for a moment but he brushes it off. “Where is she?”

“She’s driving back to the bunker in that beaten up pile of crap she calls a car. She’s fine. Barely a scratch, actually. She did good out there. Better than I would have thought considering she ‘doesn’t hunt anymore’. Then again...” He trails off.

“Yeah?” Sam inquires.

“I mean she’s good. _Skilled._ She’s fast. She can fight, can shoot.”

“That’s not surprising, considering who her parents were. How she was raised. So what’s the problem?”

“I swear, one moment she was enjoying herself and the next it looked like she was going to pass out.”

“Like pass out pass out?”

“I don’t know man,” Dean says turning into a drive-through. “She couldn’t focus her eyes, she kept getting pale, _pale,_ and she kept flicking her wrist around, next to her head.”

Sam laughs but schools his expression when Dean glares at him. “What does that even mean?”

“Like,” Dean raises his hand like she had but then drops it back in his lap, before replicating her movements. “Wipe that look off your face.”

Sam laughs. “Come on, come on, show me.”

Dean sighs and does the gesture he’d seen her do more than a few times during the fight. It's like he's aggressively shooing a fly.

“Okay, so erratic waving? I agree that it’s weird.” Sam concedes as Dean drives forward a few feet, when the car in front of them does. “Where did this happen, anyway?”

Dean raises a finger, the universal sign of ‘wait’, and puts in their order. He already knows what Sam gets and he’d asked Robin what she'd want so it takes no time at all. He drives to the window and readies a credit card. “Gas station.” He finally says. “Stuart.” He adds with intent, giving Sam a look.

“Stuart? No way! We’ve been going to that gas station for God knows how long. How did we not know he was a skinwalker?”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe he was keeping an extra low profile. Kept his head down. He never seemed much of a shit stirrer.”

“And what suddenly he wanted to take on Dean Winchester?” Sam asks incredulous.

Dean pays and hands Sam the paper bags of food to drive. “I don’t think he knew who I was. He was only interested in Robin. Kept saying ‘Fera, we want you dead.’” He imitates in a deep voice despite the boy’s having been average.

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“I don’t know. The shifter community?” Dean half jokes not wanting to entertain the idea that they might have to hunt down the alpha skinwalker that hasn’t been seen in centuries.

“So this has to be related to the Cosmos, right? It can’t be a coincidence.” 

Dean shrugs. “I doubt it’s a coincidence but we don’t know shit at this point. Merry Christmas, Sammy, time for research.”

Sam knows his brother is mocking him, but he can’t help but be a little excited about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I invite you to leave your thoughts in a comment below :)


	3. Promesas e Investigaciones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far :) I hope you enjoy

When he pulls up to the bunker, Dean sees a relaxed Robin leaning against the hunk of metal she calls a vehicle, with a backpack at her feet. Her face is tilted towards the sky, her eyes closed. Even from his seat in the impala, Dean sees the shadows her lashes cast on her cheeks. The sun beams down on her, illuminating the drops of Stuart’s blood, now dry, on her skin. She seems to be soaking in the sunshine as if she made it a habit to enjoy and appreciate the little moments and the little things. Dean smiles at the thought of a hunter her age being that way, still. Or ex-hunter, whatever. She's the daughter of the Feras, there's a limit to how far she can get from the life. Dean knows that even if it seems like she doesn't.

At the sound of the garage door Sam remotely activated, she emerges from her headspace. She turns to them and puts a hand up to shade her eyes from the sun, a bright smile splitting her face in a way that overwhelms Dean.

She gestures in hunter-talk if she’s to follow them inside with her car. Sam nods- then sticks a thumbs-up out his window when he realises she doesn't see the movement of his- so she climbs into her front seat and does exactly that.

“Hey, Dean told me what happened. Are you alright?” Sam asks as the trio head from the garage to the inside of the bunker. Robin does her best to remember the path.

“Totally.” She replies enthusiastically giving him a thumbs up. “Dean and I made a pretty good team if I do say so myself.” She adds, comically elbowing the older Winchester lightly and exaggeratedly winking at him.

Her smile, as it turns out, is contagious. Though, Dean thinks he already knew that. “I did most of the work.” He mock-complains. “But Robin did manage to find some stainless steel. Because that was helpful.”

“Hey now! I held my own.” Robin defends. “Do you always underappreciate your partners?”

Sam lets out a loud rambunctious laugh. “Don’t get me started.”

“Shut up, Bitch.” Dean counters as Robin chuckles quietly.

“Jerk.” Sam throws back, affection heavily lacing the word.

“Sam, let me help you with those,” Robin says reaching for some of the grocery bags, remembering her manners.

Sam moves away and out of her grasp. “You two get cleaned up. We’ll eat and get cracking on the case after.” 

Robin nods, hiking the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “If you’re sure.” She says but Sam is already yards ahead of her, heading towards the kitchen.

She and Dean walk slowly down the hall. They’re quiet save for the sound of their breathing and footsteps. It’s a short distance to the door to her bedroom, but somehow when they get to it, the sides of their bodies are touching, their arms flush together. It’s as though they gravitated towards each other. They have to make the conscious effort to part and Dean immediately misses the heat. _This is becoming a pattern,_ he thinks of the warmth she gives off.

“See you in a bit.” Robin murmurs, disappearing into the room, low enough that Dean thinks he’d have missed it if he wasn’t so tuned in to her.

Dean smiles to himself, continues down the hall, makes a right and enters his own room, the last one on the left. The next time he sees her it’s minutes later. She’s rounding the corner where their respective hallways meet, to go to the bathroom, he presumes. He’s a few feet away but he quickens his pace to step between her and the door, putting a hand on the frame. 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Is there a problem?” She asks when she stands in front of him.

“Not unless you thought you were going to shower before me.” He answers with a smirk, tucking his fresh towels under his arm.

“Oh come on, Dean, I’m covered in blood.”

“ _I’m_ covered in blood.”

“Yeah but it’s your own blood. You know how vile it is when it’s someone else’s.”

“Valid point.” He says agreeably, using the same words she’d spoken at the gas station. The blood of monsters always feels more repugnant.

“Just like that?” She smirks, moving to enter the bathroom.

Dean puts a hand on her shoulder, turning them swiftly so that she’s back-to-the-wall. He places his forearm between her head and the bathroom door, acting as a barrier, and leans down so that his face is level with hers. “No,” He says, voice low, deep, just above a whisper. “Not just like that.”

They breathe for a moment. Robin isn’t even sure how they got in this position. He’d moved them so gently yet effectively. Now, there he is, inches from her. A terrible wrong she terribly wants to right. She wants to pull him to her and crash their lips together because damn if he isn’t gorgeous. Even when he was threatening her life in their dungeon she could feel the telling tingling in her body that meant she wanted him. Bantering and seeing him be adorably playful isn’t fucking helping either.

“Tell you what,” Dean speaks again, his tone deceptively casual, and moves infinitesimally closer. He observes her face and is pleased with the tinge of pink he put there. “I’ll let you have the first shower if," He pauses. "You promise to think of me in there.”

Robin swears to fucking god she can hear her heart jackhammering away in her chest. She’s astonished she hasn’t busted a rib from it. That Sam hasn’t rushed over asking about the ruckus. Her light blush is gone, she’s sure, now replaced by a shade of red that matches the splotches of blood still on her face. All she can do is stare at the man in front of her. His face so beautiful with the untroubled amusement etched into it. She waits for a beat longer, thinking he’d give in with a laugh and a _sike_. Or at the very least she thinks he'd give her room to breathe, to implode. When she realises he has no such plans, she moves to step under his arm and grunts, “Whatever.”

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised when he gently presses her back into the wall, why she’s surprised when she lets him. At least he straightens up and moves awayfrom her face enough for her to feel like she isn’t going to die right then and there. “No.” His voice is low again but it’s guttural this time, little more than a rumble in his chest. His eyes darken to match his tone as they lock with hers. “I want to hear you say it.” He continues, touching his hips to hers, flushing their lower halves together. The contact is so delicious it makes him lightheaded. 

Robin recognises it for the command that it is and feels arousal build up inside her. Specifically between her legs. She holds his gaze defiantly but comes undone when a tilt of his hips makes her breath hitch. He smirks at her, smug, and she hates that she finds it attractive. “I promise.” She says quietly, shocking Dean who’d thought she wouldn’t give in.

His eyes darken even more, not leaving hers. He slowly takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. It’s the single hottest thing Robin has ever seen. “Alright then.” He says. Slowly, he takes a tense step away from her; his muscles tightly coiled object. They stare at each other a moment longer until Dean smirks, _again_ , his eyes flicking to the bathroom door. He raises an eyebrow at her in a silent, _Well?_

She fumbles and stumbles her way into the bathroom, her skin burning where she can feel his eyes linger. “Holy fucking shit.” She exhales, leaning her head against the door once she shuts it. She lifts a hand to her cheek and curses at how hot she is. She marches straight to one of the showers, refusing to look in the mirror and see the damage. She’s startled to find the towel Dean had, now in her hands. Somehow, that warms her up ten fold.

-

Dean needs a minute to calm the fuck down. Back in his room, he takes the time to breathe. He’d just wanted to flirt with her and then after they closed the case he’d try his luck at... Well, getting lucky. Key word being ‘after’. This rapid progression would complicate things, for sure, but he doesn’t think he has power over it. He doesn’t know what came over him, in that moment. All he knows is that he wanted- _wants_ \- to touch her. Wants her to smile at him that smile that makes him feel like there’s too much to smile about to ever stop. He wants to hear her voice shift from powerful and wicked to vulnerable and bare. _I promise_. She’d said it like it was easy. Like it was that simple to give yourself so wholly to someone. There is something here, Dean thinks. Suddenly, the giddy attraction, the sensual pull, he feels towards Robin twists into something else. He couldn’t let himself want her. Not like this. Not this much. He won’t get to keep her, he knows. He knows.

-

“Welcome, to _La Casa de la Investigaci_ _ón._ ” Sam greets from his seat as Robin enters the Library, extending his arms to encompass  the room.

Dean is sitting across from his brother typing away at a computer. He grunts, acknowledging the girl, intending to keep his eyes trained on the laptop. He lasts a second before his eyes move to her. She’s wearing a different pair of jeans, black that go all the way up to her waist, and a short ribbed t-shirt in a light grey colour. Dean remembers Charlie calling something similar a crop-top, once. She looks amazing, even with how her still wet hair sticks to her head awkwardly, and all Dean wants to do is grab her wide hips and pull her closer and- _Cool it there, dude._ What he does do is smirk. “Have a nice shower?”

“It was _amazing._ ” She effuses. “The water pressure is incredible.”

Dean blushes despite knowing the game she’s playing. The game he started. Maybe he was expecting her to be compliant not unlike earlier, but obviously Robin has come out to play. She's proving that she can give just as good as she can get and she'll be getting it real good if Dean has anything to say about it.

“I know, it's pretty great.” Sam concurs, oblivious. “Come, sit.” He gestures to where there’s a plate of eggs and breakfast potatoes beside him. Robin notices that fresh fruit has been added to her order and can't help but smile. “I heated it up for you.” Sam continues and, without skipping a beat, dives into shop talk. “I’ve already pulled books, on anything related to ‘the cosmos’. The Fates, Karma, you name it.” He points to the pile of books on the table and the one he’s already started on. “There’s a lot more but I think this is enough to start with."

So, Robin takes a seat, thanks them for the breakfast and gets cracking, taking bites of food every so often. Eventually, she pulls her laptop from her backpack to cross-reference information or to better understand a passage she reads. Before long, the food’s gone and they’ve had a second round of coffee for the day. After having gone through an entire book and being nearly done with the second, she allows herself a moment to observe the brothers. Dean, she thinks, has an oral fixation, a pen almost permanently between his lips, though he never seems to be chewing on it. Despite being entranced by his work, he’s in complete harmony with Sam, handing him things without looking away from his computer or his notes, without the younger Winchester even having to ask for them. It’s almost symbiotic. Dean has nothing on Sam, however, who is an actual machine. Where Robin, who is no slouch mind you, has worked through almost two books, Sam has already cracked open a fourth one.

As if he senses her eyes on him, Sam looks up. He smiles at her, eyes crinkling. “You okay?”

That stirs Dean out of his own task.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She answers. “You guys are just really good at this.” 

“Thank you,” Sam replies, enjoying the compliment, rare as they are. His smile broadens. 

“Maybe usually, I haven’t found anything tangible.” Dean sighs.

“Keep looking. Stuart might not have been the only skinwalker in the area and if we weren’t able to detect him it means they’re good at hiding.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Try expanding to other shifters. I’ve encountered some from different species working together before.” Robin suggests, realising that Dean hasn’t been reading about the cosmos but instead trying to figure out if there were more skinwalkers after her.

Dean nods, turning back to the screen. “Good idea.” He mumbles.

It’s hours later that Dean shoots up to his feet. “Food?” He says to Sam then repeats it to Robin. “Burgers?” He says, again repeating it to both Sam and Robin who laughs. “I’m going to get some, come back, and we’re going to eat without looking at books or goddamn computers.” He says with authority.

“I’ll come with, I could stretch my legs.” Sam volunteers, then exits the room. To get his jacket? His phone maybe. Robin doesn’t know.

“How about you, sweet cheeks?” Dean says walking around the table until he’s next to Robin and half sitting on it the edge of it. “Wanna go for a ride?” He winks in an over the top fashion.

Robin laughs a loud gleeful laugh. So she has the sense of humour of a prepubescent boy, sue her. “Hmm, I’m good here.” She answers smiling. “Oh but,” She rummages through her backpack and pulls out some bills. “It’s on me.” She holds out the money to Dean who glares mildly.

“Don’t insult me.”

“Come on, it’s the least I can do.”

“No.” He says and means it. "Besides, my fake credit cards are better than your fake credit cards." He jokes.

“Alright.” Robin accepts, shoving the cash in a pocket of her bag. She doesn't bother explaining that she doesn't run scams. Hasn't in a while anyway.

“If you’re going to be staying, you should take down our numbers, in case you need something.”

She leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. “Deanold, are you trying to get with me?” She asks suggestively, mostly messing with him. She hands him her unlocked phone, anyway.

Dean punches in his information and shoots himself a text. Then, abruptly drops the phone on the book she was reading and turns her seat so her legs are no longer tucked under the table and he’s able to stand in front of her. He leans down, puts a hand on either arm of the chair, cages her in. “Yes.” He says simply. 

He walks away leaving Robin to collect her wits. She jumps at the sound of their massive door closing. Sam returns and she tells him that his brother is waiting in the car which she only assumes is true. When Sam doesn’t come back a minute later she concludes that she guessed right. The text she receives confirms it. She places her thumb on the home button of her phone, unlocking it via fingerprint, and opens the message. It was an unknown number asking what burger she’d like. She answers concisely and is about to lock her phone again when she sees the first text in the conversation. It was sent from her phone. The words ‘I promise.’ in quotation marks. Robin feels the tug of arousal as she’s brought back to that moment even as she scoffs at Dean's audacity. It takes a few seconds but eventually she feels herself unwind, each muscle group relaxing. “He’ll be the death of me.” She murmurs to no one. 

She decides it’s time to get some work done. Work she actually gets paid for, that is. She pulls a camera out of her backpack removing the memory card inside of it and pushing it into the appropriate slot of her computer. She minimizes all the web pages and documents she has on the screen relating to the cosmos and opens her blog instead. She sets to work editing the pictures and writing out a post, making sure to commend the staff of the diner for their excellent service. She jumps from task to task switching between working on the pictures, writing and editing what she’s written so far. She’s gotten the brunt of the work done when the boys return.

Sam looks at her curiously, handing over a paper bag containing her food. “That’s your blog?”

“Mhmm.” She says, feeling a little nervous for some reason.

“Awesome,” Dean says, peering at her laptop, over her shoulder. “All hunters should do this.” He concludes before going back to his seat. 

The next few days are much of the same. They research. Read and read and _read._ Sam pulls stack after stack of books from their seemingly never ending collection. Dean decrees that Stuart was a lone shifter and helps them work through the material. They exchange notes, talk about the case, eat food. Robin even cooks for them once as a thank you. It isn’t great but the boys appreciate it. They have her stick to only helping in the kitchen after that and Robin isn't even offended. She works on the blog when her brain needs a break from the lore. Manages to upload a post, even. They drink. A lot of coffee. Beer. Some whiskey. Robin downs a shot to Dean’s pleasure, then admits she prefers rhum, to his dismay. The two share...moments. A brush of hands here. Looks from over the edges of books there. Winks and smirks all the fucking time Robin thinks she’ll die from them.

One night, it’s only Sam and Robin in the library. An hour ago, Dean had decided that _The Cosmos is- are?- dumb and if they’re going to send a distress call they need to fucking articulate,_ and promptly went to bed. 

Robin groans and lays her head on the book she’d been working her way through.

Sam laughs. “Just go to bed, Robin.”

“I’d love to, dear sweet Samastian _(Sam-Sebastian. Oh come on Winchester, it’s not bad. Fine, whatever.),_ but I’m not sleepy as much as I am tired.”

He smiles at her. “Weird kind of limbo, huh?”

“Mhmm.” She murmurs.

Seconds, maybe minutes, trickle by as Sam types and reads and Robin just watches.

“Thank you.” She says.

“Hmm?” Sam inquires, his eyes trained on his work.

“For doing all of this. Helping me. You guys don’t have to, it technically isn’t your problem. So thank you.”

He finally looks at her, a warm smile on his face, one that screams _Excellent Human Being_ to Robin. “Of course, Robin. It’s what we do. It’s our job.” He says like that’s all there is to it. Like there’s no other alternative. Like there isn’t a world where they wouldn’t help her as completely as they are now.

She smiles back. “I guess you are the best people for the gig. You have dealt with similar stuff before.” When his brows furrow in confusion she continues. “Bobby talked my ear off about the whole Lucifer and the archangels debacle.” She says waving a hand. "Large forces of power at play seem to be your forte."

“Right, the debacle.” Sam laughs.

Robin shoots upright. “Shit Sam, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so flippant about it.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” She relaxes when she thinks he means it. “Y’know our most recent debacle was with God and his sister.”

She’s alert again. “God’s sister? You met God? God’s real?”

He laughs at her. “You knew about angels and Lucifer and you still weren’t convinced about God?”

“I’m agnostic.” She deadpans. “Well, I _was._ Shit how serious is he about sins do you think?”

Sam laughs again. “He literally doesn’t care. He’s off bonding with his sister, somewhere, anyhow.”

“Sister? Seriously. Like...sister.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah. I don’t know if it’s like it is for us. Like Dean being my brother. They don’t share parents. They just...were? I think. I don’t know. Anyway,...” He tell her the story. Explains how everything went down, right up to the end.

“So let me get this straight, an ancient super powerful witch who also happens to be the mother of the King of hell put millions of souls, kindly donated by Billie the actual grim reaper, inside of Dean who planed to detonate himself like a bomb to take out the darkness, God’s _sister_ , and save the earth from a dying sun only to ultimately have God and _his sister_ put aside their differences, make up, and sing Kumbaya? Then she brought your mother back to life as a thank you?”

Sam stares at her. “Our lives are weird.” 

Then they’re both laughing and Sam fucking enjoys it. He loves that Robin is the opposite of emotionally stilted. That he, and he hopes Dean, can talk to her so easily. It’s refreshing. Sam and his brother have come a long way as far as communicating with each other goes but this girl, she just waltzes into their lives and shows them how easy it can be. How much better they can get.

“Where is she? Your mom.” Robin asks when the laughter dies down. “Does she not live in the bunker?” That’d be dumb, she thinks. The bunker is great. What are they going to do? Rent a condo?

“She, um...” A look of sadness that pains Robin to see takes over Sam’s features. It’s in the slump of his shoulders. In his voice when he speaks. “She went away for a while. She was um... Having trouble adjusting to the whole...being alive thing after being dead for three decades.”

“Jesus, Sam, of course. Must be insane for her right now.” Robin says because what is there to say. Her heart aches for the boy before her. He suddenly looks so young, she thinks. 

“I know. It’s still...hard, y’know.” He says the words. Words he wouldn’t dare speak to Dean out of fear of making it even harder on him.

They spend the next hour talking. Sam tells her how hard it used to be to never having known her, how he used to envy Dean for the few memories he had of her. He tells her how that pain pales in comparison to the feeling of finally meeting her only to lose her again. He tells her that he’s doing his best to keep it together for Dean. Tells her that he understands where his mother is coming from but that he’s constantly painfully aware that she chose to walk away this time. When he’s all talked out, they head to bed. Robin finds out his room is down the hall from hers, just before the turn to Dean’s hall. Tucked in, under the sheets, Sam finds that his heart is lighter than it’s been in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love feedback (much like all humans) so please feel free to leave a comment! The story is written already up to chapter 9 and a few other scenes, so keep tuning in :)


	4. The crushing of the egg of Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! Thanks for tuning again for the fourth time. Not beta'd so all spelling mistakes are my own fault (as well as that of the time: 3AM)

It’s Day Four of _La Gran_ _Investigac_ _ión_ and Castiel has joined their ranks. There is little news from Heaven other than a confirmation that there has been spikes in evil activity but only in the locations Robin and the boys were in and an angel who used to assist Metatron, the scribe of God, thinks he might be able to alter and decipher the Cosmos’ message. No one knows what ‘alter’ means, in this case.

As far as the research goes, Castiel answers their questions when they have them. Debunks some of the lore, confirms some of the mythology and lets them know when he has no idea. He reads in an armchair placed slightly to the side. Robin thinks it’s adorable, and oddly human, the way he tucks his feet under himself. 

Unbeknown to her, Castiel does some observing of his own. He’d always thought there was something almost symbiotic to the way the Winchesters work together and he is surprised to see that Robin Fera has fit right in, slipping into their routine, harmonizing effortlessly with the brothers. The only oddity being a weird tic she has where she waves a hand around by her head, at eye level.

“I think we need to pool everything we’ve got together and try to figure out where to go from here. I don’t think we’re going to get any further with this research.” Dean suggests.

“I agree!” Robin exclaims a little too enthusiastically. “Besides, at this point, the books are repeating themselves.” She adds more calmly. Robin hasn’t sat down and researched this much, this consistently, in a long time. Sometimes she breaks away to work on her blog or to meditate in her room, but she still struggles to focus. Especially considering the subject matter.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sam laughs. “So we have very little but here’s what we do have.” Sam starts referring back to notes on his laptop on and off as he speaks. “The Cosmos is basically balance. The maintaining of balance in the universe. Order in the universe. The way it’s spoken about, it’s almost like a sentient version of the universe, which would explain the voicemail the angels got.”

“So is it...a being? How can the universe be a creature?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know but it was said more than once that the Cosmos is born of the big bang, so maybe it is part of God’s creation. A deity in its own right? Like Ganesh or Odin.” Sam replies.

“That’s not far-fetched.” Robin chimes. “The closest thing I found on a personified version of the Cosmos is Ananke,” She thinks for a second, trying to recall the specifics, before continuing. “Goddess of force, constraint and necessity, daughter of Chronos and mother of the Fates. There was information on how to invoke her, too.”

Castiel nods and moves to stand at the head of the table. “For the Greeks, she is the equivalent of the the Kosmos, with a ‘K’, like the Kardashians.” The brothers share a look and Robin laughs.

“You guys get cable up in heaven, Cas?” Dean teases.

Cas looks at him oddly. “I get cable everywhere.” He deadpans pointing to his mind. Then he continues reciting from memory. “Whilst often thought of in terms of a stern woman, Ananke is also often depicted in serpent form, and it was said that the serpentine coils of Ananke and Chronos crushed the egg of creation to bring order to the cosmos and then encircled the universe, directing the passage of the heavens and the forward motion of time.”

“So we think the Cosmos helped set off the big bang? Wouldn’t that make it an entity outside of the universe? Outside of time and space?” Sam wonders.

“Not if they’re born from the big bang like we read,” Robin says, working out the confusion in her mind. “If they are, then they can’t exist outside of the space-time continuum.” She thinks for a moment. “The only way would be if they belonged to every universe. If they were the multiverse. That’d mean they’d be able to exist outside of our space-time by existing in another. The point is moot, though, because they wouldn’t be able to do something from outside of our universe to our universe if they can’t do it from within our universe.”

“How do you figure that?” Sam asks impressed. He knows she didn’t read all of this in the past few days because he’s been through the same books as her.

“The Copernican principle stipulates that Newton’s laws on Earth are the same laws of physics the rest of the universe is bound to. You can extrapolate that and infer that the multiverse follows the same rules as the universe. Ergo moot point.”

Dean looks between her and Castiel a few times. “Is this legit, Cas?”

The angel sits. “It is scientifically valid and makes sense contextually. It is ‘legit’.”

“My head hurts,” Dean complains leaning back in his chair, massaging his temples.

“Where did you get all this?” Sam asks smiling.

“I studied physics in college.” She shares.

“You were in college?” Sam asks excitedly while Dean, dumbfounded, asks “You were in college and now you’re a blogger?”

She laughs. “Yeah, I double majored in theoretical physics and creative writing.”

“That’s why you stopped hunting,” Sam concludes.

“No, actually. I hunted throughout college and a few years after that. I only stopped about a year and a half ago. I used to run with other kids of hunters, a younger generation, like you. We’d mostly work cases in our college town but we’d make trips every couple weekends.”

“And now you’re a blogger,” Dean repeats.

She laughs again. “Yeah, I didn’t want to settle down. So I drive around the country. I take pictures of food I eat and then I write about it. I’m paid kind of decently for it too.”

“You live on the road?” Dean asks but it sounds like an accusation.

“Um yeah,” Robin hesitates. “That rust bucket you like to pick on is what I call home.”

“You live out of your car?” Dean’s tone is grimmer now.

There’s a tension in the air. Sam and Castiel are quiet. 

Robin isn’t sure where Dean’s agitation is coming from so she picks her words carefully, to justify her lifestyle maybe. “Yeah, like a lot of hunters do.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, under his gaze.

“But you don’t hunt.” He all but convicts, leaning forwards.

“Dean-” Sam tries to interject but Robin speaks over him.

“No, I don’t.” Her voice is calm and leveled if a little pained.

“You got out of the life, _you got out_ , and you still choose to live like this. What’s the point? You know how many hunters try to get out like you did.” He’s almost yelling now, it’s angry but it’s more desperate angry than fury angry. “Sam tried, y’know? He was at Stanford.”

“Dean-” Sam tries again.

“ _I’ve_ tried.” Dean barrels on, his voice cracking. “You’re throwing it away. If you can stop hunting then you’re _not_ a hunter and that’s a good thing.”

“I...” Robin isn’t sure where to start. His attitude whenever she brings up not hunting anymore makes even less sense, now. “You get pissy because I don’t hunt, now you’re getting pissed because I’m not living a normal sedentary life. How about you pick a cause, _buddy_?”

Dean glares at her. “No hunter I know has ever quit and no hunter who’s tried has continued to live on the road. No one chooses that. So how about you tell me all about how you’re not just a kid who played at being a hunter one too many times and now is pretending even more with the dumbest road trip, _sweetheart_.”

Robin glares right back at him, her lips set in a hard line, blood boiling. The arrogance this man has. Robin has never been a kid playing a hunter. She’s been a kid and a hunter at the same time but that’s not the same thing. He doesn’t get to be angry with her. She doesn’t owe him anything and she definitely doesn’t deserve him throwing his own crap at her. Which is what this is, Robin knows. She gets that it’s not about her. She gets that most hunters come with baggage, hers just happens to be lighter than most. She gets that sometimes the only way to put it down is to toss it at someone else.

She has a carry-on. Dean Winchester, if the rumours are anything to go by, has a cargo ship. 

“I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice is quiet- no point in having this escalate- and so is the room. Even Dean seems to have regained his senses. “I...” She sighs. “I have this thing called synesthesia.” She says finally, casually. “It got in the way of my hunting, made it dangerous. Or more dangerous, I guess.”

“Synesthesia, that’s an illness where a person’s senses get scrambled in their brain,” Sam explains to no one. “They can see sounds, taste words, feel scents on their skin.”

Robin nods. “It varies, from person to person, like most things do. Before my... When I was younger, it was mild. Kind of cool, actually. But _after,_ when my parents died... I know you know who they are. You’ve known since you had me tied up in that quaint cellar of yours.” She laughs, the humour doesn’t reach her words.

It’s true, the boys knew as soon as they’d found out her last name. Every hunter knows who the Feras were. How they died. In a blazing fire taking down the largest vampire nest ever reported. The nest was decades in the making and taking it down was years of work for the Feras. The boys knew they’d raised their daughter in the hunter life, they didn’t know if she had been there though, they had never given it much thought. Other hunters didn’t come onto their radar until after Sam left school and by then Robin wasn’t advertising her full name anymore.

“When they died,” Robin repeats. “The disease got worse. Where before I’d get a bad taste in my mouth when someone said the word ‘Monday’ or I’d feel like I was tripping on acid at concerts, now my vision goes almost completely black when I hear people so much as talk about creatures. I hear ringing in my ears and there’s a taste so vile in my mouth, at first I considered ripping my tongue out.

“I tried. _I tried_ to keep hunting. I did with other hunters for a while, until I realised I was more of a nuisance. Putting them in danger. So I started hunting alone. I didn’t _want_ to stop. Hunting had been my entire existence up until then. It’s what I thought I’d spend my life doing. Eventually, though, I had to face the music. I was going to get myself killed.” She sighs. “I wish it was different. Hunting was such a big part of me. It still is. It’s still part of who I am. So I’m living my life the best way I know how. And, yeah, that’s on the road. I know what the hardships are when you’re a hunter, Dean.” She turns to him, her eyes focusing on someone for the first time. “The responsibility. I’m sorry, you’re stuck shouldering it.” She says to him. Meaning every word. Wishing there was something she could do. “I’m sorry I can’t contribute.”

Somewhat shell-shocked, Dean nods, a lump in his throat. It’s his silent apology. A lot makes sense now. Her odd reactions at the gas station. The weird hand-wave thing which he now realises she did whenever they were talking about creatures while they researched. Even the fact that she had so many changes of clothes, never needing to borrow from the boys. She lives out of her car. If you can even call it a car.

“Robin-” Sam starts but he’s interrupted again, this time by the scraping of chair legs on the floor.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, angel in a trench coat, rises to his feet and walks over to Robin. When he stands before her, he touches two fingers to her temple. Seconds, during which nothing happens, pass before he retracts his arm. With a soft smile and perhaps with what is a little regret, he speaks words that change Robin’s entire life. “You’re healed.”

 

 

“I’m what?”

“I’ve healed you. The illness is gone.”

Robin rises to her feet slowly. She keeps a hand on the chair, though, afraid she might lose balance. “You wha...” She swallows. “How?”

“I’ve corrected the chemistry in your brain.”

Sam opens his mouth to speak.

“Everybody shut up,” Robin says agitatedly.

 _This is getting ridiculous._ Sam thinks, unable to get a word in edgewise. He does shut up, though. Everyone does. Everyone is quiet eyes peeled on the girl who looks so tense her muscles might rip and bust. Minutes pass, minutes during which Robin does nothing, stares into nothing, eyes wide and unblinking. Her lips tremble. Dean realises she is trying to form words she’s afraid to speak.

It’s in the smallest voice ever when she finally tentatively whispers, “Vampire.”

The clock ticks thrice and nothing happens. 

Then Robin repeats, more forcefully, “Vampire.” A smile breaks out on her face. It is both hesitant and full of abandon. “Ghouls, ghosts, werewolves, rugaru, demons, specters.” And on she went naming monster after creature after monster, her smile getting bigger with each passing word. She’s moving in the room twirling on herself, looking every which way as if daring something to taint her vision. 

She’s on the other side of the table, now, next to Dean. She grabs one of the books off the table and flips through it stopping only when horrific images of beasts appear. When the only taste in her mouth is that of the grilled cheese she had for dinner, _she laughs._ She turns to Dean grabbing him by the shoulders. “You say something now.” She demands, blissed out.

Dean hesitates for a second. “Euh, Djinn. Hellhounds. Chupacabra.”

Robin squeals and lets go of him, running back around the table. Sam laughs at her antics enjoying seeing someone so excited for the first time in a long time. Robin stands in front of Cas and grabs him by the lapels of his trench coat. “Thank you.” She exclaims before laying a wet one on him. Cas flushes, Dean frowns, Sam averts his eyes laughing. She pulls away grinning maniacally, then wraps herself around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She repeats tears stinging her eyes.

Then she’s off again, running around the room screaming about being ready for the goddamn zombie apocalypse. Daring the universe to come at her. The three men look at her, amused. Finally, she slows downs and stands at the head of the table, where Castiel, her angel in a trench coat, had stood before. “You guys don’t understand. I can hunt again.” Her smile now is softer. “I can become who I was raised to be.”

One second, she’s basking in the moment, enjoying finally, _finally,_ having her life begin to take the course it was always meant for, and the next she’s bent over, her face pressed into the hard wood of the table, her wrists pinned at the small of her back.

“You need to train again before you go out there to hunt anything. Sam and I won’t fix this thing with the cosmos just so you can get yourself killed.” Dean commands.

He expects her to resist. To say she was raised on hunting. To assure she doesn’t need training. That, in fact, she can take on whatever the cosmos is warning her about on her own. Which is what he fears she’ll try to do. Because he wants her safe, but also because he wants her _here._ He doesn’t know why he expects her to react like that, later he thinks he should have known better after the few days he’s spent with her, should have known her better. Yet he’s surprised with what she does say.

“Okay! Okay, yes! I need it. Besides, fuck yes! Training with _the_ Winchesters. I’m all over that like glitter in a drag club.”

Dean lets go of her and steps back. “Well, alright then.” He says chuckling. A twinge of guilt remains however because of how he spoke to her. “I’m gonna get some beers. Celebrate.” He adds and then leaves for the kitchen.

Sam hasn’t stopped smiling. “I’m happy for you, Robin.”

Robin sighs, deeply satisfied. “Thank you.” She breathes, falling back in the chair behind her. “I’m happy for me.” She’s calm and zen as she feels everything fall into place. Thinks that maybe she was brought to the Winchesters if only to meet the angel in the trench coat. “Dean’s right.” She finally says. “We should celebrate.” She sits up, more animated. “We should go out. Let’s go out.”

Sam laughs. “I could use a night off.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She exclaims. “Cas? Angel of mine. You’re in?”

Cas gives her a fond smile. “I’m afraid not, Robin. I am needed in heaven. The angels are distraught, to say the least.”

She nods and stands. “Alright.” Her tone is weightier. “Thank you.”

Castiel nods, a smile gracing his lips. He prays he has not condemned her to an unfair life, an unfair death. Then, he bats his wings and he’s gone.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Sam says cheerfully, standing to leave the room.

“I’m going to check with Dean.” She calls after him and skips to the kitchen.

She finds Dean leaning against a counter, one hand gripping the edge, the other holding a beer to his lips as he pulls a long drag. She leans against the counter opposite him.

“Did you not want to share?” She reprimands with a toothy grin.

He looks at her and smiles but it falters quickly.

Her own smile slips off her face. “What’s wrong?” She asks. She moves to touch him, hesitates and then does it anyway placing a hand on his forearm slowly.

The contact, small and light as it is, feels, for lack of a better word, nice, to both of them.

“Dean?”

“I owe you an apology.” He chokes. He’s so bad at this. He doesn’t even remember the last time he’s admitted to being wrong let alone apologised to someone. He’d been so shitty about her not hunting since the first day and he had no goddamn right to be. “I was jealous.” He says in a breath, realising it for the first time for himself. _So this is what it means to be in tune with your emotions._

“It’s okay, Dean. I forgive you.” She says, smiling genuinely up at him. It’s a small smile but Dean thinks it helps him forgive himself a little.

“Just like that?” He tries to joke, but it comes out forced.

“No,” Robin replies with a smirk. She takes the beer out of his hand and places it on the counter behind him. She steps into his space, pressing their bodies together. “Maybe.” She continues dropping into a huskier tone. She sees his eyes on her lips and it only spurs her onwards. She’s never been happier to have waxed her upper lip. “If you promise to come out and celebrate with Sam and me.”

Dean swallows. He feels overheated like he could set the place on fire. Like he could set _them_ one fire. He thinks they might already be, where they’re touching. “Yeah, okay.” He answers almost entranced. He leans forward to finally touch his lips to hers like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life, but she steps away, smirking.

“Good answer.” She approves, and the sound goes straight to his groin. She turns to walk out of the kitchen. “It is a momentous occasion after all.” She sings, winking at him over her shoulder.

Dean thinks he isn’t a puddle on the ground only due to an act of God himself. He grabs his beer and drains it. She wants to play dirty? _Game on._

_-_

Robin is back in her bedroom. Blood courses through her at a mile a minute and she feels elated. Like she might actually levitate off the ground, she’s so blissed out. She was healthy. Really truly healthy. Fit enough to hunt. Some training wouldn’t do her harm, though, Dean was right about that. She was still good, great dammit, if only a little dulled. Her heart races even faster as she thinks of training with Dean. Their sweaty bodies having carte blanche to touch and feel and take and have.

“Jesus, get a hold of yourself.” She says shaking her head, the glee still on her pink face.

She goes to the wardrobe, one of the only pieces of furniture in the room, and opens the doors. Over the past few days she’d brought up quite a few things from her car but no more than what was necessary. A voice in her head warned her that she was overstaying her welcome but she smothers it since the brothers had never made her feel that way. 

She contemplates what’s hanging in the closet and decides on the black high-wasted pencil skirt that hits just below her knees and hugs her figure nicely, usually reserved for FED work or the few business meetings she’s had. It snuck in between two pairs of jeans when she first brought some of her clothes in. 

She keeps the white cropped t-shirt she has on and pulls her hair out of the elastic. She had put it in a bun at the top of her head, early that morning, but slowly the blob had migrated to the nape of her neck. She’s happy to see that the frizz isn’t too insane. She gives herself a once over in the mirror and taps her stomach, that doesn’t lay perfectly flat, affectionately. Satisfied, she leaves the room to go to where she quickly learned was the meet spot for the brothers, the foot of the stairs.

Sam’s already there, looking dapper.

“Dashing as ever, Samuel.” She greets and continues to her seat at the library table.

“Thanks.” He says, smiling with his eyes. “You look...barefoot.” He looks down at her feet that weren’t barefoot but fuzzy-sock clad. “Nice. But barefoot.” He adds.

She laughs. “Thanks, Samjamin. _(Sam and Benjamin but also like jammin’ Sam. Jesus fine okay. I’ll work on it. You’re never happy, y’know.)_ I have heels in my car.” She explains, walking back to him, now with her phone in hand. “I’ll meet you guys in the garage?”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam nods and then yells, “Dean hurry up!”

Robin laughs all the way to the garage where she slips on simple chunky heeled (for endurance!) shoes with ankle straps (so they don’t fall off if she’s running from bad guys!), chucking her socks in the trunk, and then leans against the impala, body turned towards the door that leads into the bunker. Her heart had calmed since being _goddamn healed,_ but she still feels an electric energy running through her. She’s ready to enjoy the night after almost a week of little other than books upon books.

The boys make it to the garage minutes later.

“Sam said you’re shoeless and-” Dean stops when his eyes land on her. They roam her body appreciating her curves but not for nearly long enough when Sam walks into him from behind.

“Dude.” Sam says.

“Dude.” Dean counters.

Sam doesn’t pay him more attention than that and makes his way to his seat. Robin’s eyes haven’t left Dean, though, and when his meet hers she winks and smirks. She thinks it might be a language for them, now. All they do is wink and smirk at each other.

“Considering the circumstances you wouldn’t let me drive would you?”

He walks right up to her, presses his hips to hers just like he had all those days ago by the bathroom, and leans down so his lips are to her ear. Robin, who’s now trapped between the car and Dean, holds her breath. She thinks he just might say yes.

She hears the sound of a door open and for a moment thinks it’s Sam getting back out, that he’d see them like this, but then Dean whispers, “Not a chance.” The feel of his breath on her ear sends shivers through her entire body.

He steps back, opens the door to the backseat fully and waves for her to get in. She does, grumbling, still catching her breath. If Dean checks out her ass guiltlessly, she is none the wiser.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will probably be up tuesday :)  
> PS: I know that vampires don't die from fire in the spn universe and it might seem like that's what I meant but it's not. There's more to the story of Robin's parent's death but I don't think the details that explain the fire will be discussed in the fic even though it's clear in my mind.  
> PPS: What castiel says about ananke is taken from the website http://www.greeklegendsandmyths.com/ananke.html


	5. Darts, stars and seven hours of Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The fifth instalment! Hope you enjoy :)

When they walk through the door, Sam leaves them to get drinks from the bar. Dean leads Robin to a booth, a hand burning a hole at the small of her back. When he turns to face her as they reach the table, his hand slides to her hip with a friction that brings sinning to mind.

“You clean up nice.” She compliments patting down the collar of his shirt.

“There’s a lot of ways I can be nice.” He replies, willing her eyes to meet his. They do.

“I bet.” She breathes.

She moves to take a seat and ends up dropping onto the bench ungracefully. She laughs at her own clumsiness and winks comically at Dean. The moment between them is gone but Dean can’t bring himself to mourn because he loves seeing her like this. Loves how everything rolls off her back. _Just like that._ In a spurt of introspection, he thinks he can maybe learn a little from her. _Later_.

He surprises her by slipping next to her in the booth, leaving the opposing bench vacant for Sam. Just as quickly as it was gone the tension between them is back. Each itches to close the inches-wide gap between them. Dean doesn’t even try to hide his attraction. He lets the way his eyes linger on each of her curves be obvious. He lets his voice get lecherous when he finally speaks.

“You look good too.”

“I always do.” Robin means for it to sound obnoxious and smug, wants to relieve the tension some, but she’s too enraptured by the way he’s shamelessly staring at her to inflect so it just sounds matter-of-fact. She finds that she’s kind of breathless.

“Mm.” Dean murmurs in agreement. His eyes flick up to hold hers, the paths they drew on her body still hot. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Robin feels caged in the corner of the booth. She doesn’t think she wants to be anywhere else. She’s not sure how long they stay like that, just staring at each other. Which, what even is that, by the way?

Eventually, Dean moves. He lifts a hand, the one that isn’t draped over the back of the booth, to touch her. The movement is slow, deliberate. Like he’s giving her a chance to stop him. Maybe he wants her to. It’d make it easier. Easier than getting a taste of something he won’t ever be able to have. Not really. Not the way he wants. She doesn’t stop him, though. So Dean puts a hand on her thigh. What he really wants is to move it to where her waist meets her hip, the spot where they flare out almost obscenely. He thinks her hips are his new favourite thing.

They stare at each other some more and Robin thinks she’s going to go insane. She does go insane when Dean starts to thrum his fingers on her thigh. It’s an irregular pitter-patter and she feels herself slip deeper into madness each time a finger presses into her flesh. She finds herself wishing she had worn a shorter skirt. Wishing she hadn’t worn a damn thing.

“Sorry that took so long.” Sam apologises placing three beers on the table and sitting.

With a squeeze, Dean’s hand is gone and Robin wants to scream.

“Get lost, Sammy?” Dean says, looking away from her and at his brother. Robin doesn’t miss the rasp in his voice. It’s both a question and a request though Sam doesn’t pick up on the latter.

“I was hitting it off with the bartender, actually.” Sam brags smugly.

Robin roots a small ‘wooh’. “Sam’s got it going on,” She cheers. When he gives her a guilty look she continues, “Go.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“It’s fine, Sam.” She assures, smiling. “Go get some.”

Sam looks relieved and appreciative. “I’ll keep drinks coming your way all night,” He thanks, before taking his beer with him back to the bar.

Robin twists in her seat to get a look. “Wowza, she’s a looker.”

She feels Dean’s hand settle just above her hips and the contact is a little more insistent. A heavy presence on her body instead of the feathery touch they’d shared before.

“You’re into that?” Dean teases.

She faces him again, her body turned towards him. “Look at her.” She argues.

“I don’t want to.” He says, eyes boring into hers.

She feels debilitated. Overwhelmed. Stock still and yet crashing at 200 miles an hour. “You’re toxic.” She admits in a rush.

Dean’s eyes darken. “Yeah? I have an effect on you?”

“Don‘t flatter yourself.”

“Why would I, when I have you to do it for me?” He smirks staring intently.

“Whatever.” She finally mumbles when looking at him, and more importantly, when him looking at her, is just too much. She turns forward in her seat, taking a long pull of her beer. She enjoys the cold of the bottle in her hand.

When she turned, Dean’s hand slipped back to her thigh resuming its earlier position. This time, instead of only tapping a beat into her skin, he decides to move it up and down short distances. Her eyes shut, focusing on the drum of his fingers. She imagines it _elsewhere_ and gets that much hotter. She takes another sip of her drink, eyes remaining closed, as though she is unable to fully tear herself away from the reverie.

He watches her swallow, watches her breath hitch when he makes his way up her leg just that much further. He thinks the contrast of her dark lashes against the blush of her cheeks is pretty.

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, wondering what’s going on in her head.

Her eyes finally open, it’s slow and heavy-lidded like she’s drowsy for some reason but Dean doesn’t peg her for a sleepy drunk, not that she drank enough yet. “Of course, you would have a teacher-student fantasy.” She says with a smirk and an eye-roll.

He crowds in closer, taking up all the oxygen in her immediate vicinity. _Rude,_ she thinks. “Don’t pretend with me, Robin.” He says. Robin feels something coil inside her when she hears him say her name in such a low rumbly voice. “I can tell you’re kinky too. I seem to recall you saying something about rope.” He says it both menacingly and with a boyish charm, which only serves to give Robin emotional whiplash.

To her merit, she maintains the smirk on her face and doesn’t give him an inch despite having turned to mush twice over inside. What she does do is place the hand that was holding her beer on top of his on her thigh. The cold of her palm burns Dean’s skin. Then, she slides both their hands up her thigh suggestively, excruciatingly slow. She almost hates herself for it, for this self-inflicted torture. The look on his face, one of arousal, is worth it, though. “You have no idea.” She speaks and it’s almost sub-vocal. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” Then her hand is gone and she’s taking another drink.

Dean swallows thickly. The back of his hand irrationally cold. He trails his hand down her thigh and then back up, not bothering with the taping anymore, an act of mercy perhaps. He works his way higher each time only to retract back to her knee. Until he doesn’t. Until he keeps going so his fingers brush the crease of her thigh.

He leans forward, getting impossibly closer. _Like he’s trying to kill me,_ she thinks. Close enough that she feels his ‘hmm’ brush onto her skin so intensely she thinks her synesthesia is back. She doesn’t have time to worry about it though because Dean is right there, right at her ear. His fingers inch just that much higher, towards her inner leg and Robin swears to fucking god that the tip of a finger is just about to _touch_ her. Even through the fabric of her skirt, Robin doesn’t know that she’ll be able to handle it.

“You’re wrong.” He says pulling his hand back. His fingers trail all the way past her knee only to move back up under the hem of her skirt.

It’s just an inch, but it’s skin on skin and something inside Robin snaps. She needs and wants and craves and Dean is going to give it to her dammit.

It seems, however, that Dean has other plans because one moment he’s robbing her of all her air and the next he’s an agonizing two feet away, standing. He puts his hand out. “Want to play a game?”

It takes a minute for Robin’s mind to catch up, to realise that he’s nodding to the darts at the back of the bar.

“I was the sniper in my family, you know.” She proclaims and Dean thinks there’s a bit of regret there.

She wobbles to her feet, taking the proffered hand, his other one immediately at the base of her spine. “In that case, let’s make it interesting.” He suggests as they walk over to where the game is set up.

She laughs at the cliché. “Smooth, Winchester.”

He winks, plucking the darts out of the cork. “If you win, I’ll let you have your wicked way with me.”

“No deal.” She laughs. “Besides I can get that whenever I want.” She winks. “When I crush you, I want to drive Baby.”

Dean laughs a big obnoxious laugh. “No one drives Baby.”

“You better win, then.” She counters with a smirk.

He does. Two out of three.

Robin’s good. She’s great. A little out of practice, maybe. In the confines of her mind, though, she admits that even at her best she had nothing on the Winchester. She’s better with guns than projectiles. The game was fun, though, so she can’t complain. They drank enough to get a pleasant buzz going. It was sexual innuendos galore, but it was light and fun, not soul-crushingly encompassing like being near him sometimes is.

When they go back to the table Sam’s there nursing a drink, looking dejected.

Dean laughs. “Struck out, Sammy boy?” He teases his younger brother who throws him a bitchface.

Robin laughs and the night carries on. They talk about the cosmos for all of five minutes before Dean scolds them. They share memories, stories of badassery from the past.  The boys try to out embarrass each other and Robin thinks she’s got a front row seat to the best show on earth.

“Never have I ever,” She thinks. “Been seduced by a succubus.”

Dean drinks, Robin and Sam laugh.

“Oh yeah?” Dean challenges looking at Sam pointedly. “Never have I ever locked myself out of my dorm room butt naked.”

Sam glares at his brother and drinks. Robin drinks. Sam splutters as both he and Dean stare at the girl.

“Freshman year.” She shrugs, an easy smile on her face. The only year she’d spent in a dorm room, in fact.

They laugh.

“Never have I ever eaten a whole pie in one sitting,” Sam says, vengeance in his eyes as he looks at his brother.

Dean grumbles and drinks.

They stumble out of the bar just before last call. They decide that none of them should drive and begin the trek back to the bunker. It’s a long one but the night is warm, despite summer coming to an end, and they enjoy it.

In a fit of drunkenness Robin overshares. “I love this.” She says throwing her hands up uncoordinatedly. “You Winchesters,” She continues. “So beautiful to see. I love that you exist.”

It’s a compliment but Dean swears it sounds sad. Sam nudges Robin with his shoulder. He’s massive, so it’s understandable that she stumbles. “We’re so pretty.” He agrees seriously.

Then they’re all laughing, because, hey, he’s not wrong.

-

The next morning Robin is welcomed to the realm of the living with a headache and the need to eat greasy food.

“Morning.” Sam greets.

Robin glances at him through crusty eyes, from the entrance to the kitchen, and sees him sipping on green slush. “Jesus, Sam. Even after a night like last night, you’re post-work-out at this hour?” She complains feeling a slight deja-vu.

Sam laughs. “I kept myself hydrated. ‘Sides someone had to go get the car.”

“Shut up. Shutupshutup.” She whines falling into the chair across from him. She rests the side of her face on the cool table. “Shut your productive ass up and get me coffee.”

Sam laughs and obeys, pouring her some from the pot he’d already brewed.

“That bad?” He asks.

“Mmm.” She groans, sitting up and accepting the coffee. “Not really. I’m just a drama queen. I’ll be good once I eat enough for two and shower.”

Sam laughs and nods.

“You always eat enough for two.”

“Shut up, Dean.” She throws back in the general direction of the kitchen entrance.

Dean chuckles and pours himself his own coffee before joining them at the table with a piece of toast.

“So what’s the plan?” He asks.

“Food,” Robin replies, noticing that he’s already had a shower.

“Yeah, we got that, you glutton.” He teases. “I’m talking about the whole cosmos thing. We don’t exactly have a lead.” He takes a bite of the bread.

Sam sighs. “You’re right. I can go over the research one more time, see if we’ve missed anything.”

“And then what?” Dean asks. “We don’t have a clue what’s going on. We _think_  there’s something out there after Robin threatening enough for the cosmos to want to warn us about it and we have no clue what it is, where to find it and how to kill it.”

“Well, Robin can start training again, for one,” Sam suggests looking to her for approval.

She does a thumbs up while sipping her coffee.

“I think we just have to wait on the angels at this point.” She supplies.

“I know you don’t have a lot of experience with them, Robin, but angels aren’t dependable.” Dean sighs. “But you’re not wrong.”

“I literally never am.”

He throws his toast at her.

-

“Ninja throwing stars?” She asks smiling, raising a brow at him.

“You’ve already shown me you can shoot, Sniper. You’ve also shown me you can’t win a game of darts.” They’d already done some gun action for an hour and Dean had been impressed. She never missed a target and rarely hit off center.

She huffs. “Ninja stars, then.”

“These are actually called shuriken.”

“Nerd.” She teases.

He stands behind her, into her space and takes her hand in his. She pushes him off.

“Hell no. We’re not getting Ghost all up in here.”

He laughs. “You suck the fun out of everything.”

She winks and then he teaches her to use them. They do throwing knives next and then they make their way to the combat room.

Robin half expects Dean to try something again. She isn’t sure she’d have stopped him this time around. Her half expecting this, of course, implies that she also half expects him to keep things instructional. What she doesn’t expect is how hard he ends up being on her. He’s stricter than her parents had been and they were _strict_ when it came to her training _._ They had to be if they were preparing their daughter to be a frontliner in the war between humanity and ‘all that goes bump in the night’. Dean, though, he’s like a drill sergeant. Robin doesn’t have any real experience with drill sergeants but this is what she imagines one to be like.

Dean’s probably holding back a little, pulling his punches, but it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it. His punches and feel very real. Blooming bruises real. He doesn’t hit her to show her where she’s open. He hits her to hurt her. Hard enough to have Robin reeling and gasping for air. He never even gives her long to recuperate. Dean tries not to think about why he’s being so rough. Tries not to think about how it’s because he _needs_ to see that she can take it. Needs to see that she can truly take care of herself, with his own eyes. It’s also how he was trained to fight, so he doesn’t what else really works.

“Come on,” He says after releasing her from a chokehold he’d kept her in long enough to prove she couldn’t get herself out.

Her eyes narrow. She moves for him, fast and efficient. She dodges a punch and then throws one that he blocks. He’s got a grip on her arm squeezing so hard it feels like he’s touching bone. She tries to get out of his grasp a few times but he’s like a boulder: unmovable. Eventually, she twists so that she brings his arm behind him. She doesn’t keep him in the position for long and she takes a hit to the side.

They continue to spar. Robin isn’t bad she’s just not good enough. She’s been able to survive Dean, but not take him down. A lot of it has to do with how out of practice she is.

“You need to do better, Robin.”

He’s right, she knows he’s right. Where she’s at now just won’t do. She’s barely able to keep herself upright let alone save someone. She’s been out of the game too long. There’s muscle memory there that hasn’t faded. Won’t ever, she thinks. It isn’t enough, though. She has to do better. And she can dammit. She _has_. She once fought a hellhound and got up without a single scratch. Her parents had cheered and they went out for a fancy dinner that night. So she can do better than this. 

She wipes sweat off her face and isn’t surprised to find blood on her hand.

“You ready to show me what you’re made of?” He asks. It isn’t challenging. Just a question. A call for Robin to bring the best that she’s got.

She looks him over. He’s dripping in sweat too, so she must be doing something right. She lifts her fists up to her face and sees the bruises on her knuckles. “Yeah, I’m ready.” She says.

So she does. They fight until Robin is truly holding her own. Then they fight until it’s more of a challenge for Dean to keep up, until Robin is doing some real hand-to-god damage. It’s not enough.

“Come on.” He says again after a kick sends the huntress skidding and falling on her butt a few feet away.

“Give me a second.” She says, moving to her hands and knees, breathing heavy.

“You think a shifter is going to give you a second?” He argues stalking to her. “Think a demon will have mercy.” He continues with a kick to her gut.

“ _Dean._ ” She chokes scrambling away and to her feet.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you, Robin, and Sammy’s not around to help you.” It isn’t a taunt, just fact. “The things we face out there, superhuman strength. They’ll hit you harder than me. Faster than me. But you already know that, don’t you?”

She doesn’t think he wants an answer but she nods anyway.

“So fucking act like it.”

He pushes her with two fingers and she topples into the wall behind her, inhaling sharply.

“You’re better than this. A _Fera_ is better than this.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dean.” She warns.

Dean laughs. “Do I have to get you angry, sweetheart? Is that it? Is this a fucking movie where rage overcomes you giving you the strength to fight me?” He laughs again.

“Just shut the fuck up Dean!” She screams.

“Alright, baby, get angry at me if it’s what it takes. But there’s something. Out. There.” He says pointing to a top corner of the room. “And it’s out for blood. And it wants yours. Something the goddamn universe is trying to warn us about, Robin. So you,” He points at her, now. “Need to get fucking ready and you need to do it now.”

Robin takes a deep breath, leaning against the wall. Her body is sore, already aching.

Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair, dragging sweat into it. “With our luck, this isn’t going to be some salt ‘n burn, Robin.”

She nods. The Winchesters had a track record for epically proportioned battles and she has to be ready for it. Besides, technically this was her fight. She nods again. “Alright. Let’s go again.” She says through the tears in her eyes.

They wrestle and box and sweat and bleed and when Robin thinks it’s over Dean says, “We can stop when you can put me down three times in a row.”

It takes her another two hours.

“Jesus Christ.” Sam screeches entering the training room, an old-timey gym.

It’s a few minutes after Robin rolls off of Dean from pinning him down for the fourth time. ‘Overachiever’ he’d murmured with a smirk and that let Robin know the session was over.

“You were supposed to train with her, Dean, not beat the living shit out of each other. Is this what you’ve been doing for,” He looks at his watch. “Seven hours?”

Robin is on her back, heaving. Dean is next to her, sitting with his knees drawn up, elbows resting on them, catching his breath. He points to something. “Give it.”

Sam brings him the bottle. “Dean.” He says in a voice that means business.

Dean sighs after taking a swig. “Robin,” He calls and it’s all she can do not to snap to attention like a fucking soldier. “Any complaints?” He hands her the bottle.

Robin has complaints. She’s got a list of them. It starts with her goddamn _hair_ hurting. “No, sir.” She answers squirting water onto her person instead of drinking it. She doesn’t trust herself not to suffocate on it.

“Good. Because we’re going again in the morning.”

Robin thinks she’s going to cry. “Okay.” She chokes.

Sam shakes his head and puts his hands up in resignation. “Get cleaned up.” He tells them. “Give her fucking medical attention.” He snaps at Dean. “I’m going to get us some dinner.”

He leaves. Minutes pass. Robin is almost certain she’s conscious for all of them.

“Dean?” She finally speaks.

“Yeah?” He takes another sip.

“Has it really been seven hours?”

He offers her the bottle but keeps it when she shakes her head. “Five. We spent almost two hours at the shooting range.”

She nods. She breathes a couple of deep breaths, inhaling through the pinch in her chest.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm.” Is his only reply.

More minutes pass.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Robin?”

“I really need to pee.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An easy way to let me know what you think so far is to leave a comment (I think im smooth and slick)  
> Sidenote: What are your thoughts on this chapter length?


	6. Convince me that you're not unhinged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :) Thanks for reading! You're great. I hope you feel loved.

“So get this,” Sam starts. “Three coeds are found dead, staged around a tea set like dolls, bodies drained of blood.” He reads off of his computer screen.

The trio are sitting in the library, eating burgers and going through the research one more time. Well, they were supposed to be anyway. Dean is scrolling through Robin’s blog, salivating. Robin is massaging her calves; she and Dean had gone for round two that morning and now she has new bruises to compliment the old. Sam, he was supposed to be the one getting stuff done, but apparently, he’s reading up on coeds.

“A vampire who found his necks victim.” Robin says and chuckles looking up from her legs that were propped on the chair next to her.

“He has, must be fangsgiving.” Dean grins looking up from his own computer. He and Robin high five.

Sam laughs. “They must have been his type.” He only receives stares in response. “Y’know like blood types- okay nevermind. It’s our thing though and it’s two towns over. What you guys say?”

Robin shrugs.

“I don’t know Sammy, don’t you think we kind of have our hands full with the whatever that’s coming after Robin?” Dean reasons.

“Point.” Robin agrees switching calves.

“Well, we’re not really making progress.” Sam points out, gesturing to the table littered with their less than fruitful research. “Besides, there hasn’t been any skinwalker action in the area since Stuart. And you checked the gas station and his apartment yourself, Dean, no sign of some devious plot.”

“Point.” Robin repeats.

“You’re not helpful.” Dean says.

“I resent that. I’m lit-”

“Literally the most helpful, yeah yeah we get it.” Dean interrupts shutting his computer. He smacks his hands on the table. “Let’s go kill us some vamps.”

“Whoo!” Robin cheers and then laughs at the raised brows she gets.

They plan to leave in the morning.

-

It’s later in the evening and Robin is packing a bag when there’s a knock at her open door. She looks over her shoulder and smiles.

“Hey Dean.” She greets, making room on the bed for him. She continues to pack.

He falls onto the bed and stretches, propping his head on his fist.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“Just wanted to check in.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s up?” She tries again, zipping up the bag and placing it at the foot of the bed.

“I wanted to check in.” He repeats. “Make sure you were up for this. Remind you that just because you’re anesthesia-”

“Synesthesia.” 

“Yeah, whatever, that.” He grins in a way that let’s Robin know he’s messing with her. “Just because it’s gone doesn’t mean you have to start hunting again.”

She sits cross-legged on the bed frowning at him and then smiling lightly. “You don’t think I can do it? I’ve been hunting for a long time Dean, I’m just a little out of shape.”

“It’s not that. I just want you to know you don’t have to. You’re out Robin. You can stay out.”

She smiles at him fondly with a tinge of sadness. “I was four when my parents took me on my first hunt.”

“Jesus.”

She laughs. “No, no it was good. We drove up to this big hauntingly beautiful house, it was legit haunted. My dad turned to me from the passenger seat and said ‘There are things in the dark Robbie, but you musn’t be afraid of them. They’re afraid of you. That’s why they hide in the shadows. They don’t dare to go bump in the day because they know there are people like you. People who protect humanity.’” There’s a far off look in her eyes and a smile on her face as she recalls. “We went in and my mom drew a circle in salt. Told me that I’d be grounded for a month if I stepped outside of it. She gave me a, I shit you not, bucket of salt and an iron bat. Then they set about looking for a locket to burn. The ghost came of course, the whole thing was over in minutes. It was awesome.”

“Is this story supposed to convince me that you’re not unhinged.”

She laughs and it’s the light and airy one Dean loves. “I don’t think the story is supposed to do anything. What I want to get to is that I love hunting. I really truly genuinely do. I grew up on that shit. I literally lived out of a car, my whole life. We never had a house or an apartment. Other than college the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place was a week or two at Bobby’s when I was really young and my parents were working on something big that I wasn’t trained for.” She explains. “And here.” She adds realising it. 

“Today marks a week.” He nods surprising her. “That just proves my point, though, Robin. Don’t you want to settle down. Or at least have the option to? Once you go back to hunting, that’s over.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t. I really don’t. Dean, I... I know, this life, it’s taken a lot from you. More than is fair. More than is right. I know you’ve literally had the fate of the world on your shoulders. And that’s more than any one person, any two brothers should bear. And I get that you’ve grown to... I don’t know...resent, this way of living. But it’s who I am. Who I was raised to be. How fucking great is that? That I have the means and knowledge and resources to drive around and save lives.”

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely unhinged.”

“Shut up.” She banters leaning forward to hit his shoulder.

He grabs her arm holding her there. “Make me.”

“Okay.” She answers easily.

She wrestles him until she has him pinned. Dean is pleased and also unpleased to find out that he can’t get out of the hold.

“You come in here, asking me question. All you do is take, Dean Winchester,” She scolds. “time to give a little.”

He rolls his hips. “I can give a lot.”

She laughs and it takes his breath away. She falls to the bed next to him.

“What do you wanna know?” He asks surprising himself. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was supposed to flirt a little, close the case, have one night of mind blowing sex. Not get wrapped up in the person she is. Leveled and brave and the least unhinged hunter he knows. He isn’t supposed to fall in love with her laugh, and how easily she laughs, and the feeling that comes from making her laugh. But it’s too damn easy. Too easy to talk to her. To see her speak about soul crushing things the way they are and remain solid. Not in a way that denies pain and refuses to feel but in a way that is strength. In a way that inspires Dean to try and do the same. So he does. Just for a bit, just for tonight, he thinks he’ll try.

Hours later Robin is tucked into his side, her head on his arm while he plays absentmindedly in her hair. She has a hand on his chest. She idly draws patterns on it lightly when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she walks her fingers across his torso, moonwalking them back towards her.

“Longest relationship?” She says breathing in deeply. Over the past hour she’d gotten hooked on his scent.

“Pass.” He says.

“Longest road-”

“Her name was Lisa.” He interrupts not of his own volition. “Sam was- I thought Sam was in the pit, It was my jab at a normal life.” His body is tense.

Robin nods into his side.

“It lasted a year. I had Cas erase her memory.”

Robin’s fingers stutter on the fabric of his t-shirt.

“It was dangerous for her to know me.” He explains. 

A minute passes and she feels him relax under her.

“Longest sexcapade?” He asks with a smirk.

She laughs and scrunches up her face in thought. “Four days.”

“Not bad.” He nods approvingly.

“Long weekend. Coolest kill?”

“I killed Hitler.”

“What?” She exclaims pushing herself onto her arms. He laughs. “Stop messing with me.” She commands.

He puts a hand at the back of her neck and pulls her down so she falls completely on top of him. He hold her face an inch away from him. “I would never.” He murmurs trailinghis free hand along her side, caressing the hips he loves.

It tickles the blubber she has there for a second before giving her goosebumps, her arousal already growing. “Dean.” She says quietly.

It’s a mistake to say anything.

It’s like the Winchester is pulled out of a dream. Out of the revelry that he can have this, any of it. He turns her back onto the mattress and slides off of the bed. “It’s late. We have, some driving to do tomorrow.”

“Dean.” She pleads.

“You need to be sharp too.” He says making his way towards the door. “Big day. Goodnight.” He disappears out of the room. Robin is mid-sigh when he pops back in the doorway. Hope floods her. “Did you want this open or closed?” He asks pointing at the door. She just stares, crestfallen. “I’ll close it.” He does and then he’s gone.

Robin waits a minute, hopes, against her better judgment, that he’ll come back. 

He doesn’t.

-

The case is mostly open and shut. They drive there and don’t even bother with fed suits (which Dean is disappointed about because he thinks that Robin would have worn the skirt she wore to the bar) because everyone is talking about the murders. They get all the information they need from nosy college kids with big mouths. They find out the murdered students were part of a sorority. They send Robin in to do some recon, posing as someone who’d consider pledging. Dean and Sam wait in the impala half a block away, Robin on speaker phone in case things get dicey. They don’t. When she gets back to the impala she tells them it’s the newest pledges but that they should stake the place out because she thinks there’s a third one. When Sam asks about the tea party set up she says they’re theater geeks that just got caught playing with their food.

They spend hours in the car, listening in on the bugs Robin had planted.

“I’m going to get us coffee, maybe food.” Dean proclaims. “Who wants what?”

As soon as Dean leaves, they hear two new voices on Sam’s lap top.

“That’s them.” Robin informs. She leans onto the back of the front seat to listen intently along with Sam.

“Oh my fucking God,” A girl says. “Where the fuck is Raquel? I’m _hungry._ ”

“Cool it. She’s bringing us food as soon as the sun sets. She didn’t use the spelled sunscreen, today, said we’re running low.” Another replies clearly annoyed.

“Why is she bringing us food, when we have a whole house full of girls ripe for the picking.” The first one complains.

“Because someone left our left overs out for everyone to see.” The second snaps.

“Whose idea was it in the first place to throw a fucking tea party for corpses, Prathepa, hmm?”

“You know it was perfect for my tumblr aesthetic! Can I fucking live?” Prathepa, apparently, argues. “You’re the one who didn’t clean up.”

“You’re the one who didn’t clean up.” The first girl mimics.

“Oh real mature, Frannie.”

“Real mature, Frannie.” The girl mimics again.

“Ugh, I can’t even with you.” A door slams.

“No! I can’t even with you!” The door opens and slams again. 

“Jesus.” Robin exhales. “I mean they seemed deranged but they kind of batshit.”

“Did she say spelled sunscreen? Like so that vampires can walk in the sun?” Sam asks.

“Christ.”

Dean gets back and distributes the loot. “What’d I miss?”

Sam and Robin fill him in. More hours pass and it’s dark now.

“How will we even know which one is Raquel.” Dean asks. “We’ve seen half a dozen girls walk into that house already since the sun went down.”

“I think we’ll know.” Sam says nodding to a chain of four girls holding hands. There’s one on the forefront, a red head, clearly leading the giggling pack.

“Looks like a Raquel, to me.” Robin contributes.

The trio get out of the car and weapon up. When Sam starts walking towards the house Dean grabs Robin’s shoulders. “You’re sure?” He gives her a hard look, daring her to lie to him.

She grins bright and wide. “Let’s kill some coeds.”

They creep into the house avoiding the lit rooms. Robin leads steering them to the bedroom of the two girls she’d suspected. They open the door slowly.

“What do you _mean_ they left?” A dark haired girl demands. Sam thinks he recognises her voice as Frannie.

“What do you want me to tell you, Francesca?” The one they’d seen walk into the house asks. “You scared them away with all your kink talk.”

“It is _not_ my fault they aren’t progressive and _sexually liberated, Raquel.”_

“No but it is you’re fault that they’re gone!”

A third girl, Prathepa, sighs from an armchair in the corner of the room. “Can you two shut up? Let’s just eat out.”

Dean clears his throat and all three vampire students’ heads snap to the hunters in the doorway.

“ _Mierda_ _._ ” Francesca says.

“Nope.” Prathepa says, getting up from her seat. “Nope, nope, nope.” She walks to the window and step out of it. From the third story.

“I got her.” Sam says leaving from the way they came.

“We haven’t had a sexy man in a long long time.” Raquel preens. She drags her nails along the bed post as she struts closer.

“And we’re _so_ hungry.” Francesca adds licking her lips. 

Dean swivels the machete in his hand. “You want some of this?” 

Robin looks at Dean. “That’s a horrible line.”

“Shut up.” He smirks.

“Only once I sink my fangs into you. Other than that, I tend to be loud.” Raquel promises eyes still on Dean.

“What am I, grilled cheese?” Robin complains. “I don’t want to be the girl who’s jealous that vampires don’t want to feed on her, but c’mon! Is there like something wrong with my blood?”

Raquel shoots her a glare. “We’ll store you for lat-” Suddenly she stops.

Something twitches in the faces of both vamps. Their eyes zero in on Robin. “Fera, we want you dead.” They say in unison. Which, by the way, really terrifying. 

“Oh Christ.” Robin curses.

“See what you did.” Dean chastises but there’s a laugh in the back of his throat. “Let’s get this done.”

They move further into the room. Dean goes for Raquel and Robin runs over a bed to get to Francesca. They fight and these tiny coeds are stronger than they look, even for vampires. Then again if they had access to sunscreen that allows them to walk in the sun, they were bound to have surprises up their sleeves.

Dean finds himself repeatedly checking in on Robin for the first two minutes until he realises she’s kicking ass and has Francesca under control. It isn’t a conscious decision, but he chooses to trust that she’ll be alright. It allows him to focus on the task at hand which is bashing this vampires face in while she tries to scramble to Robin. 

“Who’s making you some special juju sunscreen?” He hits her head against the ground another time. “I won't ask again.”

She snarls, barely paying him any attention, as she tries to get to the huntress. “Fera,” She says. Dean hears the other vampire echo the words. “We want you dead.”

“Who? Who wants her dead?” Dean asks dragging her further away from Robin by her hair.

Raquel finally turns to him, sneering evilly. “Everyone.”

A couple seconds later, as she tries to get away from Dean and to Robin, the redhead is beheaded.

Dean turns to the right where Robin is just as she pushes the plunger of dead man’s blood into the neck of Francesca. Robin kicks her away, for good measure.

“Fera,” The vampire chokes out, even as she’s dying. “we want you dead.”

The sequence of events that follows leads to something terrific. First, Francesca pulls out a small dagger from God knows where which immediately has Dean on edge. She throws it at Robin’s head in a perfect pinwheel spin before crumpling to the floor. Which is great because dead vampire. Next, Dean is lunging at Robin, to get her down and out of the way. Robin, as it turns out, didn’t need him to because she plucks the knife out of the goddamn air like a post-it off a wall. Which is fucking _awesome._ Dean does tackle her though and that’s how they end up one on top of the other. Which is nice, no one is complaining. 

Robin grins as she shows Dean the knife, shaking it between two fingers.

“No shit?” He asks looking up at where it had been in the air. “A little fucking ninja is what you are.” He cracks up.

She joins him and they’re in fits of laughter. Whole body laughter that makes you shake and jiggle, that makes your face crinkle. The kind of laugh that makes you sore. Then, still howling, Dean leans down and kisses Robin. Which...yeah pretty fucking terrific. It’s all teeth as they kiss through the chuckles.

Dean pulls away, lifting himself onto his arms, when he feels something vibrating between them. He raises an eyebrow at her.

She hits him in the shoulder. “Pervert. It’s probably my phone.”

He rolls off of her and sits on the ground. “Nope. Mine.” He smirks. 

“Mister popular, over here.” Robin murmurs as she gets up, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Hey, Cas.” He answers.

Robin moves around the room piling bodies together, topping them with a severed heads. She frowns at her  masterpiece.

“Cas has something.” Dean says.

She turns to see him now standing as well.

“One of the angels-”

“Um, Dean.” Robin interrupts nodding to what’s behind him.

He swivels and sees a cluster of girls in the doorway. At first he thinks they were wrong, that the nest was bigger, but when he sizes them up he notices that they all look small and scared. Most of them are hiding behind a blonde. She has more defiance in her eyes but it’s obvious that she’s shaken, as well.

“We can explain.” He starts.

“Are they dead?” The blonde asks.

“Yes but-” Robin starts to explain.

“Good.” The blonde says shocking them. “There’s another one.”

“Taken care of. You knew? That they were-”

“Blood sucking freaks. Yeah, we knew.” She interrupts Dean this time, a slight shrill in her voice.

To her left a petite Haitian, pulls the sleeve of her sweater up and pulls her collar to the side to reveal bite marks.

“Jesus.” Robin exhales. “All of you?”

The girls nod in  tandem. 

“We’ll clean this up.” The blonde says. “You should go.”

“No. You’ve been through enough. Let us-”

“Trust me. It’ll be our pleasure to burn the corpses of these abominable bitches.”

-

Robin and Dean are leaning against the drivers side of the impala staring out at the different houses with greek lettering above their front doors. They’re waiting for Sam to rejoin their ranks. He’d texted that he was on his way, Prathepa taken care of.

“You alright?” Dean asks after a few minutes.

“Hmm?” Robin says pulled from her thoughts. “Yeah.” She continues, smiling at him slightly. She returns her gaze to one of the houses. “It’s a little weird to be doing this again. I kind of half expected to turn around and see my parents high-fiving each other after my kill.” 

“Robin...” Dean tries to comfort unsure what to say.

Robin shakes her. “I’m alright. It just never stops feeling wrong that they’re gone, y’know?” She admits realising for the first time just how lonely she’d gotten on the road by herself.

She looks at him again and sees the understanding in his eyes, because he does know. Robin smiles sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed :))))  
> PSA: I finished writing the story in its entirety a few days ago, which feels really weird. Oh well.  
> A comment with your thoughts would be much appreciated. *two thumbs up*


	7. Someone who can handle

“Cas!” Dean yells entering the bunker.

“In here.” The angel yells back.

Dean, Sam and Robin find Castiel in the library, leaning against the table, holding a CD player and headphones.

“What’d you get us?” Dean asks pulling Cas into a hug.

“Ayil, the angel who assisted Metatron-”

“The scribe of God.” Robin interjects baffled that she’s even having this conversation.

“The scribe of God.” Cas nods. “He converted the message. Engraved it in a CD”

“A CD?” Dean asks.

“Let me get this straight, the screams of the cosmos are now a track?” Sam asks.

“In a matter of speaking. We think the message was never meant for the angels, that we simply intercepted it.”

“So who do you think the message is for?” Dean prods.

“Robin.” Cas says looking at her. “It’s the one thing that rings out in the message. Or maybe it just isn’t meant for angel ears. Metaphorically.”

“Let’s see if my human ears do the trick then.” Robin says dropping the duffle she hadn’t even needed on the ground. Dean reaches for CD player in Cas’ hands but Robin stops him with a smack. “Me first.” She decrees.

Dean rolls his eyes but lets her take the device from Cas and puts the headphones on. Though the CD player looks like it came out in the year 2000, the headphones are high grade. So as soon as Robin puts them on they seal all the sound out. She sees Cas’ lips move and lifts one ear piece.

“What?”

“Press play but make sure not to open it. It’s pure energy in there, it might react.”

“It’s a bomb?” Dean exclaims.

“No! Well... it’s very stable, I assure you.”

“It’s a goddamn bomb, Cas, wh-”

Robin lets go of the headset, laughing, allowing it to snap into place submerging her in silence. She smiles at Dean’s antics and at the gentle way Cas argues back. Sam nods at her reassuringly and she winks at him making a show of pressing play.

Nothing happens in the first few seconds, just more silence. Then Robin hears small airy musical notes. She hears them in her mind more so than through her ears. At least she thinks they’re music notes, she doesn’t recognize the instrument. It’s like waves of sounds crashing over her and Robin can’t help but feel...sad. Like there’s a deep melancholy there. An unbearable spleen. The waves begin to build onto each other forming a much stronger ripple that hits her full force. She stumbles gripping the chair beside her for support. Dean moves to go to her side but Sam stops him.

The tide pulls back and then hits again and inside of it Robin hears it. Her name. The words aren’t so much spoken as they are felt. And they don’t feel good. Tears start streaming down her cheeks but Robin only notices because in an instant Dean is wiping at them with his thumbs. He only stops to rip the headset off of her and the player out of her hands handing them to someone behind him. She doesn’t know who. Doesn’t care. She’s too...devastated.

“-etting it off her.” Dean barks. “Shh” He then murmurs. “Shh it’s okay, baby, I got you, shh, it’s okay.”

He cradles her face in his large hands, brushing her tears away, until her sobs subside and she calms down. He sits her in the chair and she nods at him reassuringly. He keeps a hand combing her hair anyway. They both turn most of their attention to Sam though, who’s now listening to the player himself.

“It’s so sad.” He murmurs. They watch him intently. “Mom?” He says shocked.

“What do you mean mom? What does he mean mom?” Dean repeats to Cas after remembering that Sam can’t hear him. When Cas shrugs he gestures to his brother to ‘give it’.

Dean listens to it himself and hears it too. Hears ‘Robin Fera’. Hears ‘Mary Winchester’. Hears anguish and mourning and sorrow that sting his heart. He stops the player. When he tries to hand it back to Cas Robin grabs it and holds it close to her chest. He lets it be and returns a hand to her hair. Everyone is quiet. Eventually, Cas speaks.

“I take it you guys don’t hear screaming and screeching?”

Robin shakes her head minutely, still mostly out of it. “It was beautiful.”

Her words startle both Dean and Sam because they’re true. Despite the grief in the song, if you could even call it a song, it was beautiful. Heartbreakingly exquisite.

“I think I wanna be alone.” Robin rises to unsteady feet. Dean anchors her and she squeezes his arm as if he is the one who needs comfort. She leaves the boys in the library, picking her duffle up on the way to her room.

“You heard it too, right?” Sam asks.

“Mom? Yeah.”

“ _What_ is going on. We can’t catch a goddamn break.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighs.

“You should contact Mary. Warn her that a danger is brewing.”

Sam nods and pulls out his phone to text her.

“I’m going to go check on Robin.” Castiel announces.

“I- No yeah go.” Dean says and watches Cas amble off down the hall. “Sam quit shaking your leg like that.”

“Mom hasn’t answered.”

“It’s been ten seconds.”

“Dean whatever is after Robin is possibly out there after _mom._ And mom is out there too. Not inside the bunker where nothing can get to her. Out there. I’m gonna call her.”

“Wait just-” Dean snatches the phone from his brother’s hand. “Just. Wait. Okay? Give her a minute. We don’t want to freak her out. We’ll get a hold of her and tell her to come home and she will.” Dean says trying hard to believe his own words.

Sam sighs and falls into a chair. “I’m so tired, Dean. I’m exhausted.”

“I know. I know, Sammy.” Dean sits in the chair Robin had been in.

A few minutes of silence go buy. The boys work on unwinding.

“Robin seemed to take it really hard.” Sam observes.

“You think hearing her own name was rougher?”

“Maybe. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You and Robin.”

“What about us?”

“Dean, c’mon... The way you were with her before.”

“She was crying, Sam.”

“You’re not really going to pretend like nothing’s going on, are you?”

“No I’m- Things are complicated, okay?” Dean pauses. “Or maybe they’re too easy, I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Sam says smirking. Then his reality comes crashing back. “I’m calling mom.”

-

“Robin? May I enter?” Castiel asks from behind the door left slightly ajar.

“Yeah.” She rasps then clears her throat. “Yes, Cas. Come in.”

Cas opens the door to find Robin sitting at the edge of the bed. Her duffle is open as though she’d started unpacking then stopped.

“What can I do for ya, angel in a trench coat?” She asks smiling at him as best she can.

He smiles sadly at her. “Please do not put up false pretenses for my sake.”

Her smile falters and she sighs. “Okay.” She breathes.

He takes a seat next to her, slowly, making sure it’s okay. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have had you listen to the recording.”

“No.” She says with a bit of edge clutching the CD player harder. “I don’t regret hearing it.”

“Why’s that?” He asks.

She shrugs, somehow feeling like a child. “I don’t know.” She mumbles.

A long silence stretches between them and it’s calming. Robin wonders if that’s a thing that angels can do, exude peacefulness.

“I think...It...Hearing it, it felt like my swan song.”

Castiel looks at her, waits for her to look back. When she does it’s hesitant.

“We’re going to keep you safe, Robin.”

She nods. “I know. But maybe-”

A door slams somewhere in the bunker. The angel and the huntress make their way back to the library tentatively but also with a sense of urgency.

“Sam?” Robin asks noticing Dean’s absence.

He looks up at her eyes full of tears. “She’s not coming.” He chokes on the words. “She says she isn’t ready yet.”

“Oh, Sam.”

He lets her comfort him for a while. Cas leaves to check on Dean in his room and when hours go by without hearing from him Robin figures the angel just left. She and Sam mostly sat in silence, his breath catching at time. She told him a few anecdotes in an attempt to get his mind off things. When midnight strikes, he says something of it having been a long day, which it had been, and something about needing a shower. He hugs her goodnight and disappears down the hall. Robin thinks he was at least doing better by that point. Far from good but better.

She ends up walking to Dean’s door a few times but each time decides to stop short from knocking.

“Hey.” He says startling her when he pops up at the entrance of the TV room, hours later. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.” She nods.

He leaves and returns with two beers. He hands her one, already opened, and sits next to her on the couch. “What are you up to?” He says looking pointedly at the screensaver on the television.

“Hm? Oh nothing. I was watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Now I’m just sitting here.” She twists on the couch so that her side is leaning against the back of it and she’s facing Dean. He angles towards her too.

“Sitting here at three am? That’s healthy.” He mocks but it’s quiet. They both are, afraid to disturb the tranquility that had fallen on the bunker.

“I’m literally the healthiest.” She says in a hushed tone. It earns her a low chuckle.

“How are you doing? From before. The message.”

“Better. Thank you.”

“You can...If you need someone to...I’ll do my best to understand, if ever you want to share.”

She nods, appreciative. “Would you accept that as a two way  street ?” She asks, genuinely wondering.

He sighs and she’s pretty sure that’s her answer. “I thought you wouldn’t bring it up.”

“I won’t again if you don’t want me to.”

He opens his mouth to say that yes, that’s what he wants. Instead a sob wracks through his body and escapes his parted lips.

She places a hand on his shoulder, moving closer to him. She doesn’t know what to say. What is there to say? She hopes someone being present, her presence, helps. It’s a strange thing seeing Dean cry, it breaks her heart.

It takes her by surprise when he drags her to him, burying her inside his arms, like he’s holding her together and not himself.

“Is there something I can do, Dean?” She murmurs when his breathing has evened out.

“You can maybe explain to me why everything is alway so goddamn hard,” He pulls away enough to look at her. “But this, this is easy.”

She smiles at him. “I-”

He laughs and it’s almost snarky. Almost upsets the quiet balance of the bunker. “Who am I kidding?” He continues, lower, mostly talking to himself. “I don’t get to have things. God’s goddamn sister brought my mother back to life for me and I can’t even have that.”

“Dean-”

“No. It’s just the way things are.” Even as he says it his grip on her tightens holding her closer. “It’s like every couple of months I have to rerealise it.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Dean.” She says, her voice so soft it blankets the room in warmth.

He lets go of her and sits up, holding only her hand. “It’s not how I feel, Robin. I don’t...I don’t get to have any of it. I don’t get to marry and settle down with kids and rescue a dog. I don’t get to worry about when I’ll have time to mow the lawn and who’s hosting poker night that week.” He stares into her eyes almost in disbelief like he can’t believe the words that are tumbling out of his mouth. Or, rather, the fact that they are. “How can I even be angry with mom for wanting to steer clear. I’m- I-” He stutters, begging himself to make sense. “This hunting life, all it does is _take._ It keeps you stuck and takes.”

“You wanna know what I think?” She asks after a minute. He nods. “I don’t think hunting did this. Does this. It’s not the life Dean, it’s the people. You belong to this. Not everyone does. How many times have you worked a case where someone found out all about the supernatural? How many times did those peoplethrow themselves into a life of hunting? Not many, I bet. You’re not trapped in hunting. You choose it. Every morning, every battle, every innocent. You choose the good fight. Because you’re a goddamn hero Dean Winchester.”

He laughs. “Yeah, okay, Dr. Phil.”

“You wanna know what else I think?” He hesitates but nods. “The house? The white picket fence? The amazing wife who’s present at home _and_ has a fulfilling career. The daughter on a basket ball scholarship and your boy who’s a mathlete. Even the damn german shepherd . It’s all bullshit. People don’t want that, not really. Can you imagine it? Jesus, waking up and going to your eight-to-five. Sitting in a cubical. Having an hour for lunch and it’s both too long and too short and no one there is interesting enough to hold your interest. You go back to your cubicle to work on something that isn’t yours, that doesn’t _mean_ anything. ‘But it’s okay, it’s worth it.’ You tell yourself when you’re stuck in traffic with every other person leaving the city to get to the suburbs. You pull up to your house and all you see is the mortgage payment coming up. People don’t want that. You don’t want that. Not really.”

“Yeah? What do I want?”

“Love. You want love, Dean. We all do. Especially someone like you who has so much to give. Fuck the white picket fence you just need the people inside of it.”

It really seems, to Dean, that Robin is onto something, but then he remembers. “And put a target on their back? Sounds like a plan.”

“So pick someone who can handle a target. Raise people who can handle a target. My parents did.”

He looks at her, realisation setting in. “You’re saying be with a hunter.”

“I’m saying be with a huntress, but whatever floats your boat.” She smirks.

“Be with a huntress.” He repeats to himself.

“Isn’t it what makes the most sense? You don’t see people who want to live in RVs and travel the country settle down with shut ins. Just like you don’t see a capitaliste decide to spend his life in a commune.”

He just stares at her.

“Hey listen this isn’t me- I’m not trying to, like, lock you down or anything. I’m not saying pick me, I’m just saying-”

He kisses her. It’s not like before. Where before it was giddy and gleeful and fun now it’s desperate and yearning. But it’s good. It’s everything Dean needs. This girl, jesus, she just gives so easily. Gives her laughter like it’s free. Her forgiveness like it doesn’t cost a thing. Her acceptance like it’s owed to him. Like he deserves it. Even now, she gives so easily in his hands, so beautifully. She allows him to maneuver her so they’re laying on the sofa, beers long forgotten. She lets him explore her, lets him tease her. She gifts him with these sounds, so precious, whenever he focuses on her neck and Dean wants more.

He feels so bare, like she’s grabbed hold of who he is at his core and decided it was worth keeping around. Worth protecting. He kisses harder, grips her hips to leave bruises, because how dare she. How dare she make him feel safe, make him feel like he can’t get hurt, like the world doesn’t goddamn hurt. How dare she give so much. Make him want so much. When he knows, _knows_ , that it’s going to be taken away.

He pulls away abruptly and she peers at him through half lidded eyes, dazed.

“Dean?” She rasps. She already feels fucked out and he hasn’t even touched her.

“I can’t.”

“Dean.” She whispers but he doesn’t hear it. He’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! Thanks for commenting (if you wish to do so)!


	8. What allows the worlds to remain in equilibrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happen in this chapter. I hope you enjoy :)

“You two are in a good mood.” Robin observes, the next morning, as she sits down at the table. She watches the brothers move around the kitchen preparing breakfast.

“We’ve got a job to do.” Sam says with determination, smiling all the while as he chops away on a cutting board. “Lives to save. Evil to kill.”

“Eggs to fry.” Dean adds from his place at the stove.

Sam nods seriously at his brothers remark before breaking into a wide smile. “Dean and I talked.” Robin thinks she sees relief in his eyes. “Mom said that she’s laying low and nothing has been coming after her. So she’s safe. We just need to figure the rest of this out and trust that she’ll find her way by then.”

Robin nods. _They talked._

“That’s sweet and dandy,” A voice with a thick accent says from the kitchen entrance. “But I’m afraid no one is safe with Lucifer still running amock. Moose, Squirrel, any idea why the winged kitten isn’t answering my calls?”

“Moose. Squirrel.” Robin cackles. “And I thought I was good at nicknames.” She begins to tear up.

The stranger looks at her, appearing confused.

“Cas is held up at the moment, Crowley.” Dean answers, rolling his eyes at Robin’s reaction and turning the stove off. “You’re going to have to deal with your infestation problem yourself.” He says turning back to face the room and the intruder. 

“Crowley?” Robin exclaims sobering up and sitting straighter. “The king? Once a lowly crossroads demon who moved up the ranks of hell by means of wits and strength and entrepreneurial spirit to end up on top of the goddamn underworld?” She admires.

Sam and Dean look at her repulsed.

“You’re impressed by this moron?” Dean asks just as Crowley says, “Don’t forget handsome.”

“Oh come on, you gotta admit it’s no easy feat. You think demons wanted to submit to someone?” Robin explains looking at the boys briefly.

“I like your new friend, fellas. What’s your name, darling?” He winks.

“Are you blushing?” Dean growls, outraged.

“No!” She counters, then turns back to Crowley. “It’s Robin Fera.” She offers him.

Slowly the easy smile slips off the demon’s face. His lips press into a tight line and his left eye twitches. Robin, for all intents and purposes, thinks he looks like he’s malfunctioning. The thought is fleeting, though, because next thing she knows she’s flung against the wall, toppling the chair she was in over. She’s held there, a foot in the air, by her neck.

“I thought you guys were friends with him.” She croaks at the brothers, eyes on the king of hell across the room, who’s hand is raised, pinning her without touching her.

“Crowley, what are you doing?” Sam exclaims already at Robin’s side.

“I thought you liked me.” Robin gasps accusatorially.

“Let her go, Crowley. Now!” Dean roars, making the room shake. Or maybe that’s the lack of oxygen going to Robin’s lungs and brain. The older Winchester wastes no time and has an angel blade against the demon’s neck in a matter of seconds. Where did he even get that?

“I’m trying.” Crowley grits out, like it’s a struggle.

“What do you mean?” Dean pushes at the knife drawing a few drops of blood. “Let. Her. Go.”

“I can’t. There’s yelling in my head.”

“What kind of yelling?” Sam asks leaving Robin to go to his brother’s side. He puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to keep him from doing anything rash.

Robin works on breathing.

“Fera.” Crowley says in a voice that doesn’t seem to be his own.

“Present.” Robin mocks.

“We want you dead.” He tightens his grip.

Robin is really scrambling at this point. Her vision starts to blur and it’s so noisy in the room. She thinks the brothers are arguing, which doesn’t feel right to her. They’ve _talked._ It’s supposed to only get better from here.

“That’s it! I’m doing it.” Dean’s voice. So pretty. Even when it’s growling and instilling the fear of God in people. And demons. Still so pretty.

Robin is dropped to the ground. She gulps large breaths of air, heaving. Sam is at her side again. He rubs soothing circles on her back and pulls the hair she accidentally inhales out of her mouth.

“Robin, you okay?” Dean asks keeping Crowley at blade point.

“Yeah.” She replies. It sounds like a cat went ham scratching out the inside of her throat. Which is good, she thinks, because that’s how it feels.

“What the hell, Crowley?” Dean yells. The demon also seems out of breath, but more like himself. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now?” Dean demands.

“A. No one would be around to take down Lucifer. B. It would hurt my feeling and really put a damper on our bromance. C. This isn’t so much an answer to your question as it is one of my own. Are you aware that there is a supernatural kill order on your friend there?” He finishes nodding to Robin who is now leaning against the wall, Sam still at her side.

“Of fucking course.” She deadpans. 

“A supernatural kill order?” Sam asks.

“Someone sent you to kill her?” Dean glares. He’d let up some but now he’s tense again, looming menacingly over Crowley.

“You insult me. I’m Crowley. I don’t do people’s bidding. People do mine.”

“So what then?” Sam asks.

“There’s a message. In the air. In my head, maybe. Probably in the heads of every supernatural thing out there.”

“What does it say?” Robin asks despite knowing the answer.

“To kill you. Don’t worry, Lamb, I won’t. I’ve got a handle on it, now.” He glowers at Dean. “Not a second too soon, either. You’d have sliced my sodding head off. Or at least, you’d have tried.” He laughs before recomposing himself. “It’s quite compelling, too. Even now I’m itching to see her take her last breath. In fact, I doubt your run of the mill monsters would be able to resist.”

“So why aren’t all sorts of creatures knocking down the door to get to her?” Dean asks, not easing up with the blade.

“There was a peak in activity every town I went to during the past few weeks.” Robin reminds. “That’s what Cas had said. Maybe monsters have been converging to me?”

“Weird activity.” Sam adds. “Which makes sense, now. They strayed from their MO because they were going after her.”

“Part of it is proximity, I think. Didn’t want to kill you ‘till I met you.” Crowley says addressing Robin.

“That’s nice.” She replies.

“You’re lucky to be alive, it seems. A signal like this, broadcasted so powerfully. The ability to coerce at such a large scale requires some serious mojo.”

“How much mojo? What can do this?” Dean asks.

“Out of my jurisdiction, I’m afraid, Squirrel. I came for blue-eyes. Have him call me. Nice catching up. Lovely to meet you, Fera.” Then he’s gone.

“Squirrel.” Robin laughs. “ _So_ good.”

She wants to keep teasing but Dean is on her. He angles her head this way and that checking her neck pointlessly. He knows that what Crowley did doesn’t leave a mark.

“Dean, I’m fine.” She pushes him away lightly.

He looks at her hurt, but nods and steps back.

“We need to get Cas.” He says. “The message from the cosmos? It wasn’t for the angels and it wasn’t for us. It was for everyone else.”

-

“Do we think this is even going to work?” Robin asks siting crosslegged on one end of the library table leaning back on her elbows.

Sam is leaning on it beside her. “We’ve gotta maintain a positive attitude.”

“How long did Cas say he was going to take?”

“You complain a lot.” Sam points out.

“Mhmm. It’s a way of life, to be honest.”

Sam nods, feeling properly informed. When Dean walks in, he tenses and she sits up. 

“Did she answer?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” Dean says doing his best to conceal his anger and his sadness. “She said she doesn’t feel ready just yet and that she’s safe so she doesn’t see the purpose of coming back but that she’ll consider it.”

“Dammit, mom.” Sam sighs. “Even with what we found out this morning?”

Dean nods. “We can’t worry about it now, Sammy. We have to focus.” He says. “Do we have everything we need?”

“Yeah.” Robin answers trying to be helpful. “I went back through my notes and pulled the spell for invoking Ananke. I altered it to summon the cosmos. All we’re waiting for is Cas. He went to get an offering.”

“I’ve returned.” Cas says appearing a mere few feet away. He puts his hand out, showing off what looks like a rock in his palm.

“What’s that?” Sam asks.

“It’s a piece of the Proxima Centauri.”

“The star?” Robin screeches jumping to her feet.

Cas nods amused at her enthusiasm.

“Can I touch it?” She asks.

Cas nods again. So she does.

“Oh my fucking god holy shit almighty I’m touching a star.”

“Alright, nerd, quit fangirling. We need to talk.”

She looks at Dean. “About what?”

“We’re going to summon the universe to the bunker. We don’t know what’s actually going to come. If it’ll be the cosmos to give us answers, or whatever is after you to give us hell. We don’t know if whatever was able to hijack the cosmos’ broadcast can intercept this call. What we do know is that you’re in the middle of all this. I want you to stay in your room.”

“I-”

“Don’t argue with me Robin. This isn’t me thinking you can’t handle it, or that you’re less of a hunter but we don’t know what’s going to happen and it doesn’t make sense to dangle you right in front of whatever is coming.”

“I-”

“Look. You don’t have to like it but-”

“Dean! Jesus shut the fuck up. I agree.”

“You what?” Dean asks but all three men look surprised like they were expecting a fight.

“I think you’re right. Don’t get me wrong, if I hear things go sideways I’m coming out here to save your asses but I don’t think it makes sense to tempt the fates, so to speak.”

“That’s it?” Sam asks.

“No ‘You can’t tell me what to do’?” Dean.

“No insisting that ‘You know how to fight.’?” Sam.

“Jesus no. I mean you _can’t_ tell me what to do and I do know how to fight but there’s a supernatural kill order on my head. The time for caution is now.” She looks at them weirdly and starts heading towards the hall that leads to the bedrooms. “Later hoes. Yell if you’re dying.” She throws up a peace sign and disappears around the corner.

“Woah.” Cas says.

“She’s like the most level headed and rational hunter I’ve ever met.” Sam agrees.

“What a nut job.” Dean adds.

All three men nod.

-

Robin is starfished on her bed when the door creaks open. She furrows her brows at Dean.

“It’s over?”

“No, no, we haven’t started. I just wanted to see you first.” He answers.

“Mm.” Is her only response before she resumes her stare off with the ceiling. Believe it or not, she’s winning.

“Check in, y’know.” Dean says suddenly nervous.

She hears the tizzy in his voice and takes pity on him. She rolls so she’s on her side, to the left of the bed instead of taking up all of the space.

Dean takes the invitation for what it is and lays down next to her. They’re face to face but there’s a solid foot between them. After a minute, Dean reaches out hesitantly and puts a hand on her hip to tap out a rhythm. 

“It’s almost over.” He assures. “What makes sense is that there was some kind of misunderstanding in how the message is coming off to creatures. The cosmos will figure that out when we talk to it and then you’ll be safe.”

“Mm.” She echoes. “I feel safe.”

His hand stills for a second then he resumes the drum of his fingers.

“I love when you do that.” She murmurs her eyes fluttering shut. “Like at the bar.” Her voice is low, matching the hour of the night.

She’s only met with silence. She settles into it, accepting that the conversation is over.

It isn’t. The conversation morphs. It’s no longer words vibrating through air, it’s lips pressing to hers and hers pressing back. It’s tongues entwining briefly before giving and taking in equal parts. It’s the brushing of finger tips against barely exposed skin, above waist bands and below t-shirt hems. It’s a conversation that speaks volumes.

Their bodies are pressed together now, overheating and begging for more. Robin doesn’t get more.

Dean pulls away. “I shouldn’t be doing this.” He stares at her with regret. Regret for his actions. Regret for stopping. He doesn’t know.

“No no, this is the only thing you should be doing.” She tries to kiss him again, her eyes still closed, hanging onto the moment fiercely. 

“No.” He says with more authority, now standing at the foot of the bed. “This, I shouldn’t let it happen.” Guilt and fear cross his features before he schools his expression. “Sit tight. We’re gonna take care of this.” He tries to grin at her, but it falls flat.

“Okay.” She whispers once he’s gone. She’s left alone in a bed that now feels too big and too cold.

-

Nothing happens. They say the spell three times and nothing happens.

“No. This has to work. We literally have no other leads.”

“Literally? You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.” Sam teases his brother.

Dean glares.

“You’re not wrong though. Are you sure you’re reading it right?”

“You try.” Dean says handing him the paper with Robin’s scrawl.

As soon as Sam starts speaking the words the air in the room shifts into a soft wind. He smirks smugly.

“Show off.” Dean mumbles.

The movement in the air picks up, it gets more powerful without getting violent. Electronics begin to turn on and flicker, the sound of static and shifting radio stations fill the room. Three figures materialise in front of the angel and the Winchesters. They appear to be made of stars and negative space. Two are women, they stand at the forefront. The third seems to be male but has an androgynous look. He stands in the middle, further back.

“Hello.” The three speak in unison. Their voices come out of the radios and TVs all around the bunker as well. “Dean. Samuel. Castiel.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Dean greets offhandedly which earns him a backhanded smack on the chest from both his brother and Cas. He rubs at the spots, offended.

“Who... Who are you?” Sam asks enrapt in their ethereal beauty.

“We are the Cosmos.” They say together. “You called us.” They tilt their heads to the side in perfect sync, as though it were rehearsed.

“All three of you are the Cosmos?” Sam looks from one to another, blown by the vision of them. They’re overwhelmingly present, yet translucid and barely there.

“We are one entity. We are everything in perfect harmony.”

“Thank you for coming.” Sam says diplomatically.

“We have not. We are the universe. We can not be in a location. We can simply be. We have projected ourselves into your mind’s eye.”

“Right, well, thanks anyway.” Dean says this time, kind of freaked by the way they speak.

“The message you sent to Heaven-” Cas starts

“Our words were not meant for angels. You are soldiers of the Lord and we exist outside of his command.”

“You’re not part of His creation?” Sam asks.

“We are born of it but not of His will. We are a necessary consequence. What allows the passage of time. What allows the worlds to remain in equilibrium.”

“Right, so back to the message.” Dean likes to get to the point. “We think someone is commandeering it, or it’s being poorly translated, or something because all sorts of creatures are trying to kill a friend of ours, Robin F-”

“Fera. We want her dead.”

“ _You_ want her dead?” Dean barks, ten times more on edge. “You’re the ones trying to kill her?”

“We do not kill. We do not take action. We simply will the universe to maintain balance.”

“So you’ve put a bounty on her head? How does that make it right?” Dean growls stepping forward., understanding now that the purpose of their message is to compel monsters to go after her.

“Easy.” Sam says placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We are neither right nor wrong. We are order.”

“That’s bullshit.” Cas says surprising the brothers.

“It is not, Castiel. It is what holds the fabric of the universe together. Head our warning, angel. It would be a mistake to interfere.” The celestial trio give him a look that makes his very grace quiver. It’s a look that tells him their words are not to be taken lightly.

“How does one girl dying hold the universe together?” Dean challenges.

“It is what is required to maintain balance.”

“How?” Sam asks trying to get to the bottom of things.

“Life was given and therefore life must be taken away.”

“Every time a child is born, a human must die?” Cas needles despite the unsettling feeling inside of him. “That is not God’s plan.”

“Not when a child is born, but when a soul is restored to the long dead and gone.”

“Mom.” Sam whispers.

“Yes, Samuel. One, Mary Winchester, brought back to life after thirty years and for that there is a cost.”

“So what you guys just pick a random and innocent girl to annihilate?” Dean presses.

“We assure you, there is nothing random about Robin Fera. She is the most similar thing to Mary Winchester in existence as of right now. The nearest thing to a perfect trade.”

“What does that even mean?” Sam questions.

“They are, as you might put it, peas in a pod. Or as close to it as we could get.”

“They’re not, though.” Sam frowns.

“They are children of hunters. Raised in the life. Huntresses within their own rights. They-”

“Enough.” Dean roars. “We’ve died and been brought back and no one had to die for it. No one had to _take our place._ ” He spits the words, fighting the bile making its way up his throat.

“The Winchester brothers are one of the single most powerful forces of good on Earth. Their removal from the world upsets the balance, tilts the favors to the side of evil too much. Without interfering, we’ve allowed your lives to continue.”

“Undo this.” Dean seethes. “She doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Few people do.” They counter. “In any case, all has been set in motion, the universe is on its course, it can not be undone. Fera must die and so it shall be.”

The breeze picks up again and a fraction of a second later the entities are gone.

-

Robin had been in her room but that doesn’t mean she didn’t hear everything. Her phone started going haywire a few minutes after Dean’s departure and then it began to talk. It sounded like a thousand voices, like all the voices in the world had begun to speak in unison with one purpose: clarify that Robin was to die. She thinks back to the CD player, spares a look at the drawer in which she keeps it, remembers how she’d described it as her swan song. 

She sighs and leaves to room to rejoin the others, when her cell dims into blackness. She only finds the brothers. The room is lit by a few candles. She figures the lights must have blown in this room along with the backup generator and they hadn’t gotten around to fixing them.

“That went well.” She jokes.

“You heard?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, it played over my phone. Inside my head, kind of.” She shrugs. “Where’s Cas?” She asks slipping into the seat at the head of the table, a brother to each side.

“He went to fact check with the angels.” Sam speaks again.

“That’s...thorough.” She offers. “I gotta be honest with you guys, it seemed pretty legit.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid, Robin.” Dean says, looking at her for the first time.

Robin sighs in relief at being acknowledged by him. She hadn’t noticed that she’d been on edge since entering the same room as him.

“We’re going to find a way. We always do.” Sam assures.

“I think...I think I am afraid.” She admits. “But I think it’s a healthy amount. I think I’d worry if I wasn’t a little scared.” She smiles.

The brothers are fascinated by her candor, how easily it seems to come to her.

“I...I want to thank you both. I-”

“No way, we’re not doing that-”

“Shut up. Please.” The words are soft but commanding. “This isn’t some melodramatic goodbye. We haven’t even gotten to the ass kicking part, yet.” She smirks at them and for a moment Dean has a flash. _Someone who can handle a target on their back_. “I just want to thank you. For taking me in. For helping me stay safe. Mostly for...Just for keeping me around. I don’t think I noticed how lonely I’d gotten on the road on my own. Being here, I really appreciate it.”

“Heal a girl of her synesthesia and she thinks a speech is in order.” Sam jokes.

“Asswipe.” She scolds standing to smack him upside the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Feel free to drop your thoughts below :))))))))))))))))


	9. I will fight the goddamn galaxies if I have to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter! Thanks for reading :) Special thanks to pixikinz for being an amazing commenter.

“What if we track down Rowena and have her do a spell?” Sam suggests.

It’s the next day, sometime in the afternoon. The hunters have been working hard on finding solutions, waiting on Cas’ return. The day, so far, has been tense. The more they searched for a fix the more they found that there wasn’t one. 

“What kind of spell?” Dean asks.

“One from the book of the damned. Something in there has to be strong enough to protect her.” 

“No way. Those always come with consequences. Chant these words, save a life. Oh side effect, flood New York City.” Robin shuts down.

“I don’t think it’s quite so literal, Robin.” Dean reasons, rolling his eyes.

“Next!” She insists.

“What if we try summoning an actual God?” Sam says.

“You mean like the Greek Ananke?” Robin asks.

“Or any other that has the kind of mojo to protect you.” Sam explains.

“That’s not bad, Sammy. Everyone has a price. We figure out what they want and do a trade.” Dean says.

Robin nods. “That could work. We could even hit up the Hindu Gods. Get my rebirth fast tracked. Maybe if I die and come back, it’ll still count as dying.” She explains. “We’d just rig it so I come back as me.”

“You’d get off on a technicality.” Dean says grinning.

“Bingo was his name-o.” She sings.

“Sam, aren’t you supposed to be the lawyer?” Dean teases.

“It’s not his fault, Dean. I’m literally the best at everything.”

“You both suck so bad I don’t even know where to start.”

Dean and Robin laugh, tension finally lifting for all three of them. It isn’t solid but it’s a plan which is more than they had that morning.

“The only thing you two literally are,” Sam continues. “Is the literal worst.”

They laugh some more. That is until Castiel falls from the goddamn sky and onto the library table on his back. 

“Jesus!” “Christ!” “Cas!” The hunters yell, some springing to their feet.

“I’m alright.” The angel grunts.

Dean helps him into a sitting position on one of the chairs.

“What happened up there?” Sam interrogates.

“Cas... Did you- Did you fall from grace, again?” Dean asks solemn.

“What? No. The angels just locked me out of heaven.” Castiel explains nonchalantly with his usual monotone but only receives worried looks. “They’ll, as you would put it, get over it.” He assures. “I’m afraid that isn’t the bad news.”

“What did they say about Robin? About what the Cosmos said.” Dean requests.

“Everything the Cosmos said stands true. The angels...” Cas looks at Robin now, a sad look in his eyes. “They say nothing can be done. That the will of the Cosmos is outside even God’s reach. They believe interfering would be a catastrophe for the worlds and refuse to provide further help.”

The room gets quiet. Whatever pep had begun to accumulate is drained instantly.

“This isn’t a problem.” Dean says eventually. “Come on, just how much- I mean no offense, Cas, but we weren’t actually relying on the angels were we?” The room stays quiet. “Sam tell him our plan.” When Sam doesn’t speak right away Dean repeats more gruffly. “Tell him, Sammy.”

Sam explains to Cas their deity idea.

Cas looks pained. “The angels don’t think God, _any_ God will be able to stop this.”

“Our plan isn’t to stop it though, Cas, it’s to bypass it. Like a loophole.” Dean says, desperation seeping into his words.

Cas isn’t sure what to say, how to clarify what the reality of the situation is. One look at Robin let’s him know that he doesn’t need to, not for her sake. She already knows. “It’s a long shot.” He finally says.

“A long shot is all we need.” Dean affirms and Cas regrets offering the false hope.

Robin stands. “We need a break.” They all stare at her. “Fine. I need a break.” She leaves for the kitchen.

Robin hears the men murmur behind her before she’s even left the room.

In the kitchen, a few minutes later, Dean walks in on her downing half a glass of water.

He smirks. “I figured you’d have gone for something stronger.”

Robin puts the glass down still gripping its base while her other hand grips the edge of the counter. She lets out a short dry laugh. “You assume this is water.” She says without turning to look at him.

He knows she’s joking but the words hit him hard nonetheless. “It is. I’ve never seen you drink without offering some to everyone around you.” He counters trying to suppress the guilt gnawing at him. “Probably something about you not wanting to be an alcoholic.”

He doesn’t do a good job because Robin sees the culpability plain as day when she turns to him to say, “You know me so well.”

“I do.” He nods realising that it was at least a little true. Over the course of the last week and a half he’d learned so much about her. Big things. Little things.

Robin frowns at the look on his face. “Dean what’s wrong?”

The question startles him. He doesn’t know why, because Robin knows him too. Not the way Sammy does. No one ever will. Not even the way Cas does, either. Cas has touched his soul, there’s no comparison. But Robin does know him. In her own way. In a way Dean needs. “I’m sorry.” He chokes out and drops his head to observe the floor.

Robin is confused. “Sorry for wha-” Then she gets it. “Dean.” The word is broken when it leaves her lips. “Dean, this isn’t your fault. Dean, look at me.” She waits until he does, it takes a minute. “I don’t blame you.” She says with such assurance, like it’s an absolute truth.

Dean feels the coils of guilt in the pit of his stomach, at the core of his soul, loosen, because he believes her. Really truly believes her. Not just that she doesn’t blame him, but that he isn’t to blame. On some level he knows that none of this would be happening if it hadn’t been for him, but on most levels he’s able to shut that thought down. It’s a strange feeling, letting go of the guilt. He loves that being around her makes it easier. 

He takes the few steps necessary to get behind her. He brackets her between his arms as he puts them on the counter, as well. “Okay.” He whispers accepting her kindness.

Robin’s breath hitches when he buries his nose in the crook of her neck. She lets go of the glass to hold onto the counter with both hands. Dean moves her hair to the side and brushes his lips against her skin. It’s a barely-there touch but it has Robin’s nerves firing off. She turns in his arms and looks up into his eyes. The look is pleading.

Dean is almost afraid to touch her more. Afraid that one of these days he’s going to go too far. Reach a point where he won’t be able to pull away. Won’t be able to be without her close. He isn’t sure that he hasn’t already.

He starts to take a step back but Robin’s hand shoots out to fist his t-shirt, keeping him still.

“Don’t.” She says.

Dean sees fear in her eyes. “Hey, hey, Robin, we’re going to figure it out, we won’t let anything happen to you.” He murmurs soothingly.

“No.” She says. “It’s not about that.” The words come out frail, like Robin is struggling with them. Like she’s putting effort into exposing herself. It’s odd to Dean who thinks this stuff must come naturally to her. She’s so great with words. With being honest with her emotions. “Don’t walk away.” She says. “Or do.” 

Dean starts to realise what she’s talking about and his chest begins to feel constricted. He isn’t ready for this. He won’t ever be. It isn’t supposed to come to this. “Rob-” He tries to interrupt. 

“I want this, Dean.” She continues. “With you, I want it. And I’ll fight for it. I’ll fight the goddamn galaxies if I have to.” Her voice is low just above a whisper. “But I won’t fight you. I can handle supernatural hitmen after me but not you pulling away from me over and over again.” She lets out a shaky breath. “It’s too much. It’s too hard. It hurts and I wont subject myself to it. So if you want...” She trails off.

“Robin don’t.” He begs.

“If you want to walk away,” She pauses. “do it, but if you don’t then _stay._ ”

These aren’t choices, Dean thinks. He can’t choose her, he doesn’t get that privilege. “Are you giving me an ultimatum?” He jokes with a smirk he’s so used to throwing her way. It doesn’t reach his heart.

Robin shakes her head slowly a light smile gracing her lips. “No, I-” She stops. “I guess I am.” She lets out a short snide laugh. “Never thought I’d be the type.”

Seconds pass. All Dean wants is to pull her closer but he can’t. It isn’t fair to her. All that’s left to do is pull away. So he does.

Robin’s grip on his shirt tightens. She hadn’t given much thought of the possible outcomes of what she said and she definitely wasn’t ready for this scenario to play out. She just knew she had to clarify where she stood but now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to deal with the consequences. It’s pathetic. She’s literally forcibly holding him there, when he’s clearly made a decision.

Dean shuts his eyes. Unable to look at Robin, can’t see her this way. His hands envelope hers and slowly peel her fingers off his clothing. Dean has been in purgatory, yet this moment still feels like one of the harder things he’s had to do. Eventually he frees himself from her, which isn’t what he wants, he knows. He’s finally able to admit it to himself, but it doesn’t change how things have to be. He walks to the exit, pauses. “We’re going to try invoking the Gods in a bit, if you want to be there.” He leaves.

Without warning, Robin begins to cry. It’s silent tears that she swipes away like they’re acid on her face. She downs the rest of her glass slamming it back down. She’ll get through this, she’s been through worse, she lies to herself.

They spend the rest of the afternoon invoking gods. Those who do answer the call are either furious or laugh at the request. It puts a damper on the overall already low mood of the bunker, to say the least.

They’re all sitting around the library table, defeated.

“Maybe we should all call it a night.” Robin suggests. “Get some rest.”

Dean sits up from his slouched position. “No, no, we’re good. Come on, what else we got?” He tries to enthuse but it sounds forced.

“Robin, why don’t you go to bed.” Sam nods, ignoring the look his brother shoots him. “We’re right behind you, just going to clean up a bit.” He assures when it looks like she’s about to argue.

She sighs. “Yeah, okay. ‘Night fellas.” She rises to her feet. “Angel.” She winks before disappearing down the hall. She thinks she hears Sam ask Cas to take him somewhere. She isn’t surprised that they’re still going to work. She feels a little guilty leaving them to it but Robin is tired, dammit.

She makes it to her room and drops onto the bed. She exhales trying to unwind. She tries a few mind clearing exercises she used to do to cope with her synesthesia. She’s only been at it a minute when Dean barges in, the door swinging open violently.

“You don’t get to do that.” He yells at her.

Robin sits up, frazzled. “Do what?” She asks. She thinks of making a joke but the fury coming off of Dean stops her. “Dean, wha-”

“You don’t get to give up, you hear me, Robin?” His voice even louder than before.

Something snaps inside Robin. Maybe it’s due to her impending death and the weight of that looming over her. Maybe it’s due to being a bit high strung today. Or maybe it has something to do with being rejected no more than six hours ago. But Robin is not here for Dean’s bullshit.

She jumps to her feet, feels anger boil inside her. “I’m doing my goddamn best here, Dean. How about you cut me some slack?” She snaps back.

He walks up to her, right up to her so he has to look down. He’s livid. Shaking from it. “Do. Better.” He seethes between clenched teeth. It’s the calm before the storm.

“Excuse me?” Robin screeches. She may be shorter than him but the intensity of her glare levels the playing field, she thinks. “Where do you come off telling me what to do, huh? Telling me that of all things.” She’s yelling too now.

“Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?” He mocks.

“Fuck off, Winchester!”

“Whatever you want, baby, but I am not letting you do this.” He’s even louder, even closer.

Robin can’t hear, can’t see, she’s too overwhelmed by him. Needs space. Needs air. She shoves him, hard enough that he stumbles back. “Do what?” She doesn’t recognise the shrill in her voice. She didn’t even know she could reach that octave. 

“ _Die._ ” Dean roars and he’s right back in her face.

Oh. _Oh._ “Dean, I’m not going to die.” She says and it’s softer now, still hard but softer.

“Damn right you won’t.” Dean yells, not easing up. “I won’t let you. Won’t let you do this to me, Robin.”

“To you?” She demands in disbelief, the edge back in her tone.

“Yes, to me. I won’t fucking let you waltz in here, make me want you, need you so goddamn much just so you can leave. Just so you can _leave me_.” That’s what it was, Dean realises. Yes, part of it was saving a life. And part of it was saving _Robin’s_ life. Having her safe and well and in the world. But a lot of it, most of it, was him unable to deal with losing her. Understanding this only makes him angrier. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.” He barks at her not giving her time to form a reply.

“Like what?” She says anger building inside of her again. It wrestles with her compassion, with her empathy.

“Like you want to save me.” He spits the words like accepting, like taking, anything fromher is out of the question.

She laughs a sardonic almost condescending laugh and throws her hands up in defeat. “I don’t want to save you, Dean. I want to goddamn _love_ you.”

He stares her down. Wills her to take it back. He wants to yell at her. Scream. Demand why she’s making things so hard for him, ironically, by making things so easy. Making _them_ easy. Accessible. Within reach. But Dean knows better than to touch. Knows that he’ll taint it, destroy it, probably ruin her in the process. Because that’s what Dean does. He wants to grab her and shake her and kiss her and _love her back._ All he does is leave. 

He walks the path to his room, the bunker too quiet for comfort. Sam had left with Cas, on a hunch, whatever that fucking meant. When he shuts the door behind him not fifteen seconds go by before it’s slammed open. Robin enters and though Dean doesn’t see her he feels the waves of rage flowing off of her.

“I don’t know where you get off, Winchester, but you don’t fucking walk away from me like that. Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you.” 

He turns and realises he’d made an understatement. Robin doesn’t look angry she looks outraged. “Robin.” Dean warns.

“What, Dean? Do you not want me to put myself on the line for you? D’you not want me to be honest with you?” She screams

“No!” He yells back.

“Bullshit! You want me to.” She moves closer to him, a predator. “You want _me_.”

“I fucking can’t handle you honesty, Robin, because I can’t do the same.” He shouts back. “Not all of us have your emotional fucking competence. Not all of us can afford the luxury.” He stalks towards her. She totters backwards towards the door, now she’s the prey. “This,” He grabs her and crushes his lips to her painfully then releases her. “It’s the best I can do. It’s all I’ve got to offer, Robin. I can’t- I _can’t_ do more. I don’t have more to give.”

“Fine.” She says when she regains her footing, the fight leaving her all at once. There are tears in her eyes, but Robin thinks they might have been there for a while. 

Dean, on the other hand, still feels just as tense, if not more so. He wants that answer, wants her to accept the way things have to be, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. It only makes him afraid of what’s to come. Afraid of what his reality needs to be.

“I think you’re wrong.” She continues. “But I already told you that I won’t fight you. Not on this.”

She gives him one last longing look before turning to leave.

That does it for Dean, seeing her want just as much as he does. He grabs her roughly and slams her against the door, hard enough to shut it, hard enough for Robin’s head to crack on it.

“Dean.” She breathes.

He silences her with a look. Holds her there. Stares. She looks scared, but not of him. Of them. Of what they could be. Of what they won’t. It frightens Dean too. He lets her go suddenly and steps back. He looks at his hands like he doesn’t recognise himself in his actions. Or maybe he does, which is worse. When he glances back up at her, though, she looks like she’s disappointed. That’s all it takes. Dean is back on her, gripping her hips this time. The hips he loves so much. He digs his fingers into her flesh hard enough to hurt, to bruise. His eyes bore into hers.

“Dean.” She whimpers.

He growls at her. He leans close, so so close, until there isn’t a place where their bodies aren’t touching. Which isn’t physically possible so it musn’t be true but it really feels like it. Each breath they draw feels like it’s coming straight from the other. It’s hazardous and it’s consuming. And they want more.

“Dean.” Robin says again. Dean hears the words she doesn’t speak. _Walking away will hurt after. I want more than this._ She deserves more. Deserves better.

He presses their foreheads together and shuts his eyes. “I know, I know. But this is all I can give, Robin.” He chokes on the words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He murmurs, almost a prayer. Then, accepting his own selfishness, says, “Please I need- I need this, I need you. Please, please, please.”

It’s a tiny movement, one that Dean doesn’t see but feels. Robin nods against him. All hell breaks loose.

Dean is licking into her mouth, not exploring, just taking. Tasting. Feeling. He’s rough, borderline aggressive, but Robin takes just as much as she gives.Her hands are in his hair, tugging, sending prickles of pain to his scalp. She pulls his strands back following him with her own mouth, trying to guide him further into the room. With her actions she’s saying _come on._ She’s saying _Where’s the bed._ Dean doesn’t care. He slams her back onto the door earning him a grunt. Robin knows it isn’t from the pain.

The sound sends Dean into a frenzy. His hands finally leave her hips. One circles her back and lands on her ass squeezing and pressing the middle seem between her cheeks. The other moves up to cup the back of her neck. Roughly he tilts her head to the side, exposing her throat. Robin whimpers when their lips part then moans when he starts devouring her neck. He lingers just above her collarbone where he elicits more obscene sounds from Robin.

Robin isn’t sure when she handed him all the power. When she was reduced to a blubbering mess, unable to do anything but hang onto the fabric of Dean’s clothing. Fabric she desperately wants to tear off of him, but doesn’t dare. Doesn’t want to accelerate things, anymore, because she knows this is it. Knows they won’t have each other again. Not like this. Not the way she wants either. Dean made that perfectly clear. If this is all she gets, Robin is going to enjoy every goddamn second of it. 

Dean can almost hear her thinking and when she finally stops to give in with complete abandon he realises that she gets it now. In true Dean fashion he decides tomorrow they’ll deal, now’s the time to forget. He releases the grip he has on her neck and trusts that she won’t move her head so he can continue kissing. She doesn’t. He brings his hand down to her breast and growls almost offended to find a bra.

He pulls her shirt off and Robin thinks she hears the sound of thread snapping. Her bra follows and then Dean’s lips are on her breast. Both of his hands are at the back of her ribs pulling her chest closer to him. He doesn’t tease, goes straight to licking and bitingher nipple until they harden. He pinches one between his teeth lightly, tugging away from her, and then releasing.

“Fuck off.” Robin suddenly rasps. She pushes him off her forcefully and then again when he tries to press her back into the door. She undoes her jeans and pushes themand her underwear past her hips where they snag on her thighs. She barely notices having already moved on to lifting the hem of Dean’s shirt up, ordering him with a look to pull it off completely. She works on his pants while he does just that. His pants fall to the ground and he kicks them off along with his socks and boots.

Robin’s already kissing his chest almost angrily, biting hard and leaving marks. Dean’s breathing is labored, like he’s enduring the best torture of his life.

“Shit, Robin!” He yells when she bites his collar bone extra hard.

“That one’s so you remember a week from now.” She barks glaring up at him.

“Two can play that fucking game.” He snaps and pushes her back into the door. He grabs her wrists in the air when she moves to touch him slamming them onto the wall. “My turn.” He smirks wickedly.

His hips snap to hers and he grinds down hard and slow. She feels his hard on through the fabric of his briefs. She moans low though it might be from the hickey Dean is sucking onto the crook of her neck. He works her over in waves, sucking hard, then licking harshly to pseudo-soothe, then sucking hard all over again. When he finally pulls his mouth off her he smirks again. “So _you_ don’t forget.”

She twists her hands out of his grasp and shoves him off again, like it’s some sick tango. “Like I fucking could, asshole.” It’s an accusation because this is their one time and Robin sort of hates him for it. She shoves him again so that they’re in the center of the room now, near the foot of the bed.

She pounces before Dean has time to react, dropping his boxers. She grabs him by the neck and brings his lips back to hers. It’s all teeth, and bites and desperation and maybe Robin hates herself for it too.

Dean’s hands roam her body, roughly squeezing handfuls and pinching skin. When his hand wanders down he curses at the pants still around her thighs.

He ends their kiss. “What the fuck is this?” He yells, like it’s somehow Robin’s fault she still has clothing on.

“You got a problem, Winchester?” She seethes her chest heaving in front of her. 

“Get them off right fucking now, Robin.” It’s irrational, he knows, but he’s just so goddamn angry. He’s a greedy bastard and he wants more, but knows that he won’t get it. Nothing makes sense and everything hurts yet she feels so good. In this moment she’s the only thing that feels good and he wants to hurt her. Wants to wreck her.

“Fucking make me.”

He does. He picks her up and all but throws her on the bed. She lands with a bounce and is disoriented enough for Dean to pull her pants off forcefully along with the underwear tangled in them and her slip on sneakers. He grabs her calves and drags her towards him. He want to take a moment to stare at her like this. Completely naked on his bed, her legs in his hands, spread _for_ him, her hair almost as wild as the gleam in her eyes. She doesn’t let him. As fast as he had thrown her on the bed she’s sitting up and pulling him down on top of her.

He kisses her once on the lips, hard like it’s a threat, then makes his way down her body. He lingers on one breast then continues moving south. He kisses her stomach and bites her hip. He relishes in the string of moans and curse words Robin lets out. He bites extra hard when she insults him. Or maybe she insults him when he bites extra hard.

The next thing he does is flick his tongue against her clit and it’s so unexpected Robin actually shouts.

“Fuck, baby, Robin fuck, the noises you make. You’re so-”

She doesn’t hear the rest. The words get muffled when Dean plunges his tongue inside of her. He strokes expertly sending a foreign thrill through her body.

“ _Dean_ , yes, jesus fuck yes.” She digs her head into the mattress, her back bowing slightly, as his tongue prods inside of her occasionally going up to lick her clit sharply. “Fuck Jesus, Dean.” Her neck snaps up to look at him, suddenly. “Do you think Jesus was real? We know God is, now, and-”

Dean pulls his face, now slick with spit and her wetness, away from her. “Shut the fuck up, Robin.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Robin snaps back like she’s remembering how angry she is. She shuffles up the bed and Dean follows on all fours discarding his boxers in the process.

Dean gets his lips close to hers, they even touch a bit. It’s the first moment of stillness they’ve shared since their foreheads were pressed together. “I know you like it.” Then he takes her mouth again.

Robin does like it, but that isn’t worth shit. She refuses to give in to him. She kisses back harder, probably bruising his lips some. One of her hands grips the back of his neck, the other snakes down his body. It ghosts over his dick and Dean thinks he’s finally going to be touched. She ends up gripping his hip and flipping them over. It isn’t easy. Dean resists but she manages to get him on his back. She straddles him and finally takes him in her hands, knocking a moan out of the man beneath her. She hovers over him so that he’s pressing onto her entrance just so. Dean’s face is one of pleasure and pained anticipation. “Tell me what to do one more time.” She dares.

“I’ll do you one better.” He grits between clenched teeth, breathing deeply through his nostrils. “How about I tell you what I’ll do.” He trails his hands up her knees and thighs until they’re resting on her wide hips. “But I think you can guess, smart girl that you are.” He smirks and pulls her down onto him just as she says, “I’m literally the-”.

Robin tries to hold off but as soon as she gets an inch she wants more. So she allows her body to get slammed down onto his. She bears down over and over, sinking onto his full length, as he fucks up. They’re violent about it and their words are even harsher.Snapping at one another like it’s their birthright. They release all the frustration that they have towards the situation out on each other. Hurting one another in ways that can heal knowing full well that when this is over they’ll hurt each other by walking away. They don’t think that pain will be as easy to manage.

After a short while of grunts and insults the anger starts to dissipate. Dean rolls them over again and he’s surprised when he’s met with no resistance. He holds himself up on his forearms on either side of Robin’s head. He fucks her hard, still, but slower, at a pace that isn’t vengeful. She meets him thrust for thrust with the rise of her hips. She’s so gorgeous and pliant in his hands. So perfect for him. Generous to him. Giving and _giving._

He decides looking at her hurts and presses his forehead to the mattress next to her so that their cheeks touch.

That’s how they come. Robin first, moaning out a string of expletives cut with proclamations of Dean’s virtues, and then Dean, repeating a mantra that consists mostly of ‘Robin’ and ‘Sorry’ and ‘Please’.

They stay like that for a long while, panting, until Robin feels a wetness on her cheek. She thinks she’s been crying again but the slight shake in Dean’s shoulders lets her know otherwise.

When Dean rolls off of her, a few minutes later, Robin has never felt so bare. It feels like the end and Robin knew it was coming, prepared herself that it’d be hard and yet she isn’t ready. When would she have had the time to get ready? It isn’t fair, she decides. Not that that matters. She tries to focus on catching her breath. More minutes creep by before either of them breaks the silence.

"Am I supposed to leave now? Sneak back to my room and hope I don’t run into Sam?" She half jokes.

"Hmm? Sam went out." Dean murmurs.

Robin cant help but hurt at the words. She’s never had issues with walking away from a one night stand but that’s not what this was. "Oh." Is all she says before starting to slide off the bed.

Dean turns to his side and drapes himself over her, keeping her there. "Thank you." Je buries his head in her hair and neck.

She nestles into his arms. "Pleasure was all mine"

"No, I think I got some of that too."

She laughs. "In that case, you're welcome."

There’s a lull during which their breaths even completely. They snuggle into each other nesting for the night.

"I want more, Dean." Robin whispers afraid to disturb the calm they've settled into.

"I know, I’m sorry."

"It’s okay.”

"Just like that?"

She nods into his shoulder.

They lie with each other, just breathing. They try to hold off on sleeping knowing that by the time morning rolls around _this_ will be over. When they do sleep, it’s deep and unburdened by their problems. All sleep would be in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of smut? I wrote it, it happened. Robin and Dean make me sad tbh.  
> Anywho! I hope you enjoyed. I hope you drop me a line in the comment section below. Feel free to let me know what you absolutely hated :)  
> Alternative title to this chapter: I will fight the goddamn galaxies if I have to (to be with you). But I thought it kind of gave it away too much.


	10. They were wild things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longer chapter. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> There's a quick spoiler ridden disclaimer in the end notes that explains the behaviour of one of the characters a bit if

Robin wakes up to a tickling feeling between her legs. She peeks through one eye and sees Dean kneeling near her thighs dutifully cleaning her up with wipes. Her heart swells with affection.

“Sexy job you got there.” She says trying not to think of all that has dried on her skin.

“I like to think so.” He winks humorously before continuing with his work, like it’s the most important thing he has to do. He goes about it so gently, a focus taking over his features. It’s a wild contrast to their interaction from the night before. Robin has to force herself to look away, the sight of him just a tad overwhelming.

When he finishes, he drops a sweet kiss in the crease of her thigh and he tosses the wipes in the garbage can by his bed. He plops back down playfully beside Robin, on his side, his head propped up on a fist. 

There’s a quiet in the room after that. Like undisturbed morning air you don’t want to agitate.

“Is Sam back?” Robin asks quietly.

Dean shakes head slowly, staring at her face. “I didn’t see him when I stepped out.” He drawls lazily. Everything feels slow.

She nods. She notices his gaze drift down her body, completely exposed. She moves to grab a sheet to cover herself but he takes her hand in his.

“Feeling shy?” He teases, eyes crinkling into a smile.

“No.” She answers a little too quickly, then laughs at herself.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, his tone more serious, bringing her hand to his lips. He brushes them against her knuckles and occasionally leaves a peck. His eyes travel back up her body to finally meet hers. “So great, Robin. So easy and your laugh it’s everyth-”

“Dean.” Her voice wavers. “This is hard enough as it is, please.”

He nods slowly and presses a kiss on the inside of her wrist before returning her hand to her.

“It feels like waking from a dream.” She sighs looking up at the ceiling. “I know this is ending, and I’m trying to keep it going, grasping at...nothing.”

Dean doesn’t stop looking at her. He doesn’t know what to say and considers embracing her as a way to extend comfort but thinks better of it.

She sighs deeply again then turns to him. She moves closer, slowly, the air between them feeling heavy. The moment feels eternal, in a way, like even once it’s over it goes on forever. It’s own pocket of time. It also ends far too quickly. She presses her lips to his for a brief second then pulls away. It ends.

“What are we having for breakfast?” She asks energetically rolling off the bed. She walks around the room picking up discarded clothing.

Dean watches her and suddenly he gets what she was saying before. A dream slipping through his fingers. “Robin-”

“Stupid question, I know.” She says throwing on her t-shirt and balling up everything else. “I’ll let you get started on the bacon.” She turns to him with a big grin and it feels like a punch to the gut for Dean. “I’m gonna go shower. I’ll meet you there.” She flits out of the room.

Dean tells himself he’s made the right decision.

-

Robin is showered and dressed. She almost hated washing away most of the evidence of last night off her body. Dean’s scent being what she’ll mourn the most. Ultimately, she thinks it’s for the best. If she presses at her hickey throughout the day to sooth herself with the dull pain then it is what it is.

She makes her way to the kitchen where she hears voices.

“You didn’t find anything?” Dean asks.

Sam must shake his head. “The necromancer could bring her back but she wouldn’t...be her.”

Dean sighs and Robin imagines him rubbing his face with both hands. “So we got nothing. Good talk.”

“We’re going to figure something out.” Sam answers. “The glitch we thought we found, her dying but being reincarnated or brought back or whatever, just isn’t an option.”

“We can’t stop it, we can’t bring her back from it. What are we going to do, Sammy.”

It’s Sam’s turn to sigh. “We just find a way to protect her.”

“Morning, guys.” She says walking into the kitchen.

“Hey, Robin!” Sam says overly cheerful. 

Robin feels Dean’s eyes heavy on her skin as she speaks. “I over heard you guys talk, no need to put up a front, Sam.” She smiles softly at him when guilt appears in his eyes. She walks over to the table and takes a seat while the boys remain standing by the counter. Dean’s gaze follows her and it feels intoxicating. “I think- I think it’s time we face some facts.” She continues.

“Robin.” Dean warns his look getting stormy.

“I’m not, I’m _not_ giving up, Dean. I just think it’s time to accept that we can’t stop this.” She’s speaking words but all she can focus on is Dean. His eyes on her. The ghosts of his hands from last night. The air feels thick and then a weird sort of clarity sinks in. “I’m just going to live my life, now, I think.” She says with a nod. “I’m going to hunt. I’m going to fight and I’ll be cautious and yeah, eventually I’ll die. But hunters die. Everybody does. Maybe this isn’t some great curse. I could have died by now anyway even if the cosmos hadn’t interfered. Car crash. Chocking on a burger. Slipping in the shower.”

“Robin.” Dean’s voice is gravely. A warning that frightens her a bit.

“Y’know maybe this is a blessing. On hunts the creatures will most likely focus on me helping the innocents escape.”

“Robin.” It’s Sam who pleas the word this time.

“No.” Dean says and it’s a deadly kind of quiet. “You think we’re letting you out of this goddamn bunker, Robin? This is the only place where you’re safe. You think we’re letting you out to go hunt of all things.” Gradually his voice gets louder until he’s yelling at her again. It’s somewhat controlled, however, unlike last night. “What happens when you’re after a witch and every creature in the apartment building zeroes in on you, huh? How do you think you’ll survive that?”

Robin’s senses focus on Dean but his words barely register. She is overwhelmed with all that he is. This isn’t supposed to be happening. It’s supposed to be over. She’s supposed to have left it all in that bedroom. She can’t handle everything that’s going on _and_ him. She presses her knuckles to her eyes. “Dean I-” She stops suddenly. Looks up at him. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said you’re not leaving to go _hunt._ ”

“Right. Because I’m safest _here._ ”

“Yeah.” He says slowly, edge leaving his voice. He sees the cogs turning in her brain but isn’t sure what she’s getting at. “In the bunker...”

“Right. In the bunker! The bunker that’s warded. Just like Cas warded your souls against demon possessions.”

“We can ward you like he bunker!” Sam exclaims. 

Robin nods enthusiastically. “We can fucking try.” She grins.

-

“Place this in the Cas pile and this in the tattoo pile.” Dean says handing two sheets of paper, one with a drawing, to Sam, who organises them accordingly. 

They’ve been at it for almost the whole day and they’ve found numerous sigils and wards but also charms, spells, hex bags and the sorts. Each with a distinct function, some protect, others make it so the wearer can’t be tracked. They’ve got something for most of the supernatural creatures they know of. Robin is exhausted just looking at all that they’ve accumulate so far.

“You guys work too hard.” Robin states yawning which earns her a glare. “I’m just saying.” She defends.

Robin rests her head on the table, yawning again. She watches the boys continue working for a minute until she feels a strange prickling on her wrist. She sits up and turns both her arms so she can see the underside. Dots of red appear at the center of her wrists.

“What the fuck?” She murmurs, brows furrowed in confusion.

She screams in pain when her skin splits open up her arm and blood gushes out. Her arm continues to tear all the way to the crook of her elbow and all she can do is yell in agony. Because it hurts so much. Feels like being ripped apart. And there’s so much blood, so much, so much. It looks like there’s gallons of it, pouring out of her. She didn’t even think she had that much blood inside of her. She watches it flow out of her like a red river. She hears her name being called out but she can’t focus hard enough on it. She tries to stop the bleeding, tries to hold the skin of one arm closed. She sees the blood burst through her fingers and Robin thinks this is it. The cosmos must have decided against not outright killing her. This is their move and Robin is going to die.

She wants, she _needs-_ “Dean.” She half yells half gasps looking up for him. 

He’s right there, and relief washes over her. He’s tapping her face and his lips are moving but the words don’t reach her ears. For some reason, her vision is horizontal now. He snaps his fingers in front of her, one hand running up and down her back. Weird. He’s not even trying to stop the bleeding.

“Dean.” She says again, and it takes so much of her energy. Maybe it’s the last thing she’ll ever say. Maybe he’s the last thing she’ll ever see. She’s okay with that, she thinks.

“Robin, you need to wake up. Snap out of it, Robin. Wake up, sweetheart.” His words are reassuring if distressed. “Now, Robin.” He yells sharply drawing her out of her haze.

Her eyes focus as she regains full consciousness. She sits upright, lifting her head from where she had rested it on the table. “Dean?” She says confused. Then her mind remembers. She was dying. She quickly brings her arms up to her face and sees no traces of blood or of a cut. There’s a bruise there from when she’d trained with Dean, but that’s it. “I’m okay.” She says mostly to herself.

“Yes. Yes, you’re okay. It was just a nightmare.” Dean reassures crouched by her chair. “You fell asleep. You’re okay.” He wants to take her in his arms and kiss her and shelter her forever. Instead he pets her hair and back.

“I’ll get you some water.” Sam says hovering around the two.

She nods at him shaking only a little.

-

A few minutes later Robin is by the kitchen entrance again, where Dean had also disappeared off to after deciding that Sam was taking ‘too damn long’. She listens in on a conversation obviously not meant for her ears. Again.

“Don’t you think if there was a supernatural safety net hunters would already be all over it?”

“Sam-”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes, okay, yes. I do. I know we’re grasping at straws but we’re going to keep grasping at any goddamn thing until she’s safe. Did you see her out there? She looked petrified. Legit scared out of her mind.”

“Dean, I know. I want her safe too. That’s why I’m saying we should be working on a back up plan.”

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.” A deep voice says behind her.

Robin jumps and turns. “Cas!” She whisper-yells. “I wasn’t- I was just-”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I know. You’re right.” She smiles sadly.

“Here’s your water, Robin.” Sam offers from behind her. She jumps again. 

“Thanks.” She accepts it and drinks gratefully.

“Sam needed help working the faucet.” Dean jokes. No one laughs.

“Were you able to meet with one of the angels, Cas?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. Ayil confirmed what the necromancer said.”

Sam nods. “We figured as much.”

“What’s all this?” Cas asks nodding at the stacks of sigils and drawings and photos of items and lists and spells.

Dean explains to Castiel what they’d like to do.

“Warding her soul-” He stops and turns to Robin. The men had moved back to the table to discuss details while Robin had remained on the perimeter of the room leaning against the wall, occasionally sipping on her water. “Warding your soul, it’s dangerous, extremely painful and might not even work.”

Robin nods. “I’ll try anything once.” She tries to kid.

“Are these all of them?” Cas asks the brothers.

“These are the ones we want you to do, yeah.” Sam says.

“We’re going to take her to a tattoo parlor after to ink the stuff an angel can’t do.” Dean continues.

“Then we’re going to drive out to find some other protection charms we’ve read about.”

Cas nods. “Ready?” He asks Robin.

“What now?” The angel nods. “Woah, okay. I kind of thought preparation was required, like surgery or something.” She walks towards him, handing Sam her glass.

Cas rolls the sleeves of his coat and shirt up on one arm. “The pain will be agonizing.” He reminds.

“Awesome.” She says.

“Ready?” He asks again.

“This is all very anticlimactic.” She looks at Dean briefly then nods at Cas. “Ready.”

Agonizing is an understatement. She doesn’t know how long it lasts. Feels like hours. Real actual hours. Hours as in sixty seconds ticking by sixty times. Cas rummages inside her for _hours._ She isn’t sure what he’s doing in there. It feels like he’s rearranging furniture but also like the furniture is on fire and made of sandpaper scraping against her organs. She knows she’s screaming. She wishes she was a cool chick that could just grit through the pain. She thinks her legs give out, yet she’s upright. 

At one point she starts to beg for him to stop. Because it’s _too much._ She’d rather be dead. She’d trade her life to have the suffering end. She’d trade anything. A voice in her head tells her that’s a lie. It sounds like Dean. He’s right. She wouldn’t trade him. Even though she doesn’t even have him to trade. The burn builds and she hangs on to the voice. To the idea of Dean. 

She might not get to have him the way she wants, but she gets a piece of him most of the world doesn’t. She gets to see him store pens in his mouth when he’s reading. She get’s to mock the way he wolfs down his food. She gets to see the way he talks passionately about the few things that matter to him. Maybe it can be enough. Maybe knowing him is enough. She doesn’t have to want more, doesn’t have to be greedy. The pain culminate until it’s white hot and then it’s gone.

She crumbles completely into a pair of arms when Cas removes himself from her.

“You’re okay. I got you.” Dean places her in a chair. “How are you feeling?” 

She takes a moment to heave and collect herself. “How long?” She croaks.

“Two minutes.” Dean supplies.

Robin laughs and Dean didn’t think he’d ever dislike the sound but it’s wrought out of her terribly.

“Cas did it work?” Sam asks.

“Her soul has the warding but I don’t know that it’s enough to counter the cosmos’ will over the monsters.”

“How do you feel, Robin?” Sam inquires, wanting an answer.

“I’m good.” She rasps. “Feel just a bit off.” When Dean gives her a disbelieving glare, she continues, “The pain’s gone. Mild discomfort only.” She looks up at the trench coated angel. “Thank you.” She says. 

“Of course.” Cas replies.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice calls from the front of the room.

“Mom?” Sam and Dean say in unison.

“Hi.” Mary Winchester smiles weakly.

-

Mary Winchester is sitting at the head of the table in the library, her sons are in each adjacent seat. Robin is to the right of Dean. Castiel had left to continue to remedy things with the angels, but only after pointedly saying ‘Glad to see you back where you belong.’ to Mary. Robin had tried to retreat to her room, as well, to give the Winchesters some time. Dean had glared and told her ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight, in case that dream was prophetic.’ Then he’d added to Sam, ‘We should find something for spontaneous combustion.’ Sam made a note of it.

“Mom where have you been?” Dean asks. It’s a little gruff, a little accusatory, but mostly sad.

“Around. Figuring some things out.”

“Are you back now?” Sam asks hopefully. “For good?” He reaches out and touches her hand.

She draws her hand back putting both of them in her lap. “For a while.” She says.

Robin’s heart clenches for the boys, for the look of hurt in Sam’s eyes. A long silence stretches where neither brother knows what to say. 

“I thought I’d come and check out that message you mentioned I was in. The one from the cosmos.” She laughs.

It does little to enhance the mood but a little can go a long way when things are so fucked.

“You must be the girl who’s name was in it along with mine.” It’s a question.

It takes Robin a second to realise she’s being spoken to. She uncurls in her seat, placing her feet back on the ground. “Yes ma’am.” She finally answers. “I’m Robin Fera.”

Recognition dawns on Mary’s face. “Fera.” She repeats.

“You knew my parents.” Robin states.

Mary nods a fond smile on her face. “I didn’t know they had a daughter. I introduced them in highschool.” She laughs. “Your mom used to stay with us sometimes when her parents went hunting. I’d stay with them when my parents did. And I used to tutor your dad.”

Robin smiles a big smile. “You’re the reason they met. The reason they got together and had me.”

Mary nods but the smile slips off her face. “The reason your father began to hunt. The reason they chose to live the life they did. The reason they decided to raise you in it.” 

Robin wants to say something but doesn’t get the chance to even form a thought. Mary stands abruptly. 

“I’m tired. Is my room still there?”

“Just like you left it.” Dean assures then watches him mom walk away.

When she’s gone Robin talks. “Guys I’m sorry, I don’t know what I said.”

Sam shakes his head. “It’s not you Robin. Our mom she...”

“Has an aversion to the hunter lifestyle.” Dean supplies grinning.

“You’re awfully chipper.” Sam says a little confused.

“She’s back ain’t she?” Dean asks. “Safe and _here._ ”

-

They each head off to bed. Robin argues that everyone will hear her scream if something happens so she doesn’t need to be chaperoned in her sleep. Dean concedes but not before boldly whispering something in her ear about definitely being a screamer. Robin flushes a deep shade of red and is grateful that Sam had already started walking away. Robin would be lying if it didn’t feel nice, though. Things were reverting back to how they were when she and Dean had first met. Sexual innuendos without the weight of their future - or lack thereof - looming overhead.

Dean went to bed that night with a new found contentedness. They were on the track to saving Robin. His bed still smelled of her. And his mom was _back._

The good feelings don’t last. The next morning, he and Robin drive a couple towns over to test run her warding. They don’t work. When they get back to the bunker and find that Mary hadn’t surfaced from her bedroom, Dean’s worries only deepen.

“What do you mean she hasn’t come out all day? It’s 5PM” Dean demands putting the takeout on the table.

“I mean, she hasn’t left her room.” Sam replies curtly, clearly taxed by the day’s events.

“Did you check on her?”

“Yeah, a bunch of times. She’s been in bed.”

“Jesus. C’mon.”

Dean marches to his mom’s room and Sam follows. Robin hangs back and plates the food to keep herself busy. The brother’s return as she’s placing the fourth plate.

“We won’t need that one.” Dean growls and takes a seat.

“Your mom doesn’t want to-”

Sam shakes his head sadly. “She’s just sort of laying there. She told us to go away.”

“Let’s eat.” Dean orders and the conversation is over.

The next few days are more of the same. Mary comes out of her room less than a hand full of times. She’s zombie like, barely human. Her eyes are bloodshot and there are bags underneath them, enough to indicate that she isn’t sleeping. Robin has seen her eat exactly twice leaving most of the food they bring her untouched. When she speaks it’s hallow and Robin can see the boys wither along with her, unable to see their mom this way.

When Sam suggests they go on a hunt Dean shuts him down real quick. Tells him Robin can’t come and he won’t be leaving her or mom alone. Sam nods.

Robin and Sam have more late night conversations that mostly consist of chocked sobs and sad laughs. Dean joins them once and Sam sleeps better that night than he has in a week.

Robin doesn’t have another nightmare. Dean dreams though. A lot. Often of her. Of them. And it’s not apple pie dreams like he was expecting. But it’s him and Robin. It’s them hunting. Singing in the impala. Kissing mid-kill. It’s them taking pictures of every diner they go to. It’s Robin’s laugh. Her laughter is the official soundtrack to his dreams. Every morning he wakes up thinking maybe it’s possible, maybe Robin was onto something when she’d said pick a huntress. Then, he remembers how Robin wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for them.

One early morning, before even Sam is up, Dean walks into the kitchen to get some coffee.

“Morning, mom.” He says not expecting a response.

“Morning, Dean.” His head snaps to look at her. She smiles a small smile.

He goes over to sit with her. “How are you feeling?”

“Better today.”

Dean stares at her for a long while. “What’s going on, mom?” His voice is frail, like he’s afraid to ask the question, afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know.” She admits. “Things don’t feel right. I don’t feel right. I’m trying, baby, okay? You just need to be patient with me.”

“Whatever you need, mom, I just hate seeing you like this.”

“Yeah I’ve been kind of rough the past few days. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. She doesn’t need to apologize. “I’m just happy you’re here.” He feels like a boy, young and vulnerable and he realises those are things he never got to be.

“Do you think it might have anything to do with that message you and Sam called me about?” Mary asks, desperate for some answers.

“The cosmos?” Dean shakes his head again. “Turns out you were right. Nothing was after you.”

“Oh.” 

“Robin has a recording of it if you wan’t to give it a listen. If that will reassure you.”

Mary nods. “I’ll ask her when she wakes up."

“Good.” Dean answers.

“She’s so much like her parents, you know?” Mary recalls fondly. “They were wild things but also so leveled. All excitement wrapped up in assuredness.”

“Yeah? Maybe Robin inherited their emotional intelligence and her penchant for being a badass.” Dean laughs and it reaches his whole face, it reaches his soul.

Mary raises a brow. “Something going on between you two?"

Dean’s smile sours. “We don’t...We won’t work. This life isn’t built for that.” He explains looking down.

Mary shrugs. “You know how I feel about hunting, but her parents made it work.”

Dean practically snaps his neck looking back up to his mother. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I understand now that you and Sam won’t be stopping any time soon and nothing short of pointless utter destruction would stop a Fera from hunting. They’re rebels but they always have a cause. Makes sense to do it together.”

Dean nods slowly, like he understands. He doesn’t. He never thought he’d hear his mother say something like that. She put it so simply too, just like Robin had. Like it’s as easy as choosing her, choosing love. Happiness.

“I think I’m going to shower.” Mary says rising to her feet. “I haven’t in an unthinkable amount of time.” She walks around the table and bends down to press a kiss to her son’s temple before walking away from the table.

“Mom?” She turns back. “Thank you.” Dean says. “For this. For being here too. For trying.”

She nods. When she turns back she sees Sam at the entrance of the kitchen. “Morning, Sammy.” She kisses his cheek, standing on her toes, and leaves for the bathroom.

“That was...” Sam says looking between Dean and where his mother had disappeared off to. He walks in to take the seat across from Dean, where Mary had been.

“Yeah.” Dean agrees.

Then they’re grinning at each other.

“She’s doing so good today. Think she’ll stick around?” Sam asks sobering up.

“God, I hope so, Sammy.”

Sam nods. “I’m kind of concerned that she doesn’t know exactly what’s been keeping her down. I thought maybe something had happened while she was gone but she doesn’t understand anymore than we do.”

“You heard us talking?”

Sam nods again. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Dean sighs. “I don’t think anything is doing it to her. I think she’s just adjusting. Everyone she knew is dead now. She must have figured that out while she was out and about. That couldn’t have helped.”

“Yeah, but you saw her, Dean. She was basically comatose in her bed.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll help her through it.”

Sam nods for the third time.

“It’s kind of amazing just to be talking to her.” Dean exhales.

Sam laughs. “Kind of? Sometimes I want to cry when I think about having her around. Having her alive.”

“Wuss.” Dean teases.

Sam glares playfully.

“You’re right, though. ‘Amazing’ doesn’t do it justice.” Dean concedes.

“She’s right y’know?”

“Who?”

“Mom. About you and Robin. It makes sense.”

Dean sighs. “Sam, I-”

“Can you.” Sam interrupts. “Can you have a conversation with me without shutting it down because it’s hard?” Sam says. There’s an edge to his words but Dean sees the pleading in his eyes.

The brothers have been working hard on communicating and Dean notices how every little bit of progress puts Sam over the moon. He’s grateful to Robin, who facilitates their late night chats. He takes a deep breath and waves a hand to cue Sam to continue.

“You and Robin. I know there’s something there. Christ, sometimes I feel like I’m going to choke on it when I’m alone with the two of you. But I know you too, and I know you’re fighting it.”

“Okay.” Dean replies. “Is there a question in there?”

“Why, Dean? Why won’t you let yourself have this?”

“Don’t give me that, Sam. Like you don’t know what happens to people who hang around us.”

“So what, once we deal with the cosmos you want Robin to leave?”

“Of course not.” Dean counters a little too forcefully. “She can stay as long as she wants.” He continues more calmly. Then, with hesitation, adds, “I’d like her to.”

“Me too.” Sam grins. “So what’s the difference if she’s here as a gal pal or as someone you woo?”

“Gal pal? Someone you woo? What the fuck, Sam?”

“Just answer the question.”

Dean just rolls his eyes because his brother has a point and he can’t think of a comeback right that instant. He’d been trying not to get involved with Robin, he’s willing to make that sacrifice, but he hadn’t thought about having her gone altogether. He doesn’t think he could handle that. Doesn’t think he can give up quite that much.

“My point exactly.” Sam smirks.

“Yeah? You mean to tell me you wouldn’t have handled things differently with Jess?” Dean jabs and he regrets it immediately. 

A sad smile appears on Sam’s lips but his words hold no rancor. “I would have. Jess... She didn’t have a chance. She was targeted because of who we are, to prove a point. It’s sick. But Jess wasn’t Robin. And more importantly Robin isn’t Jess. Jess had no clue about anything. Didn’t even know she had to protect herself let alone how to. Robin is a trained hunter. She started younger than we did. She knows the lore, has a level head, has kept herself safe over the years. Jesus, Dean, you can see how much she loves it by how she talks about it and she was still able to decide to take a step back when it made no sense to hunt while she was sick. She’s better than us for that fact alone. When have we ever been able to take a knee? She’s definitely better than we were at her age.”

“You’re making me feel old.”

“You know I’m right. Let yourself have this.”

“If something happens...” Dean trails off, his eyes looking somewhere distant, a glimpse of what the future might hold, perhaps. “It’d be on us. On me, Sam. I couldn’t-” He interrupts himself choking on the words.

After a long silence, Sam finally speaks. “Y’know, Charlie... She wouldn’t have changed anything. I think about that a lot. Sometimes it reassures me, sometimes it keeps me up at night, but she wouldn’t have changed anything. She wouldn’t take back the time she spent with us. The good she did.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“It definitely doesn’t. But I think it makes it a life well lived.” 

Dean lets out a startling laugh. “Charlie definitely knew how to do that.”

A minute passes as the boys reminisce about their fallen friend, a hero in her own right.

“You’re not making this easy, y’know?” Dean tells his brother, looking at him.

“Good.” Sam says sternly, standing. “Because I think you’re making the wrong call, so it should be hard.” He gives his older brother a softer look. “You deserve good things, Dean.” Sam begins to leave the kitchen. “I’m going for a run.” He says over his shoulder.

Dean sighs. He wants to give into what Sam is saying, _god does he want to._ It’s just not that simple. It’s not about him.

The rest of the day goes by like the ones before it. Sam, Robin and Dean continue to search for solutions. Mary comes and goes more often than she had before. Cas stops by with no new news then leaves again.

Dean can’t focus for shit. His mind constantly wandering off to one Robin Fera. He watches her as inconspicuously as he can. Which, being a great hunter, is pretty inconspicuous. He loves the way she always thumbs the corner of the page she’s reading. How she’s always shifting, like sitting still is foreign to her. That is until she settles into a position that’s just right. He loves the look of concentration she gets as she immerses herself in the work. He loves how expressive she is. How her lips curl into an ‘O’ when she reads something surprising. How she’ll stifle a laugh inside of her when she comes across something she deems funny. It’s not out of embarrassment, Dean knows, she’s just sensitive to preserving the quiet for the sake of everyone sharing the space. Dean loves that too. Loves that when it’s time to eat she does it whole heartedly like every meal is the most important one, like every meal will be her last and _oh._

He wonders if she thinks that her meals are numbered. His heart aches at the thought. If she is thinking that she definitely doesn’t show it. She’s so positive yet realistic, laughs with her whole body and speaks truths with every corner of her mind. Dean loves it. He can’t help but be tuned in to everything she does. The sharp breaths she takes. The light pacing she does at times. When she speaks, forget it, he hangs off of her every word. It’s borderline obsessive.

It scares Dean.

He _wants_ so goddamn much. 

It petrifies him.

-

It’s late in the night when Sam stretches and cracks his back.

“Ew, dude. That’s nasty.” Robin insults.

“You’re nasty.” Sam counters intelligently, standing.

“True.” She accepts easily turning back to her book. “You calling it a night?”

“Yeah.” Sam replies rubbing the sleep out of an eye. “I’m gonna check on mom first then hit the hay.”

“G’night.” She smiles up at him, toothily. 

Sam almost wants to ruffle her hair. “Goodnight.” He laughs exiting the room. “‘Night, Dean.” He calls.

The older Winchester nods at Sam, his eyes not leaving Robin, who’s back to studying the text. A few minutes pass before either of them says a word.

“What if the solution isn’t magical?” She starts, her brows furrowing in concentration. “What if we can medically slow my heart rate enough to technically-” She stops when she looks up and Dean is staring at her with intent. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Dean doesn’t bother answering. He stands and walks around the table to Sam’s usual seat beside Robin. He drags her chair closer to his, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, until their knees touch.

“Robin.” He breathes. He opens his mouth to speak but stops. It’s too hard. Instead, he decides to do something he knows well.

He places a hand on her cheek. Robin leans into the touch against her own will. “Dean.” She whimpers.

‘What is he goddamn doing?’ She’d think if she had any mental capacities at the moment. She is doing her best to honor his wishes and this, _this._ Robin isn’t strong enough for this.

Dean leans in closer, until they’re sharing air. He slides his hand to cup her jaw and tilts her face up to his.

“Open you eyes, Robin.”

Robin hadn’t even noticed she’d closed them. Suddenly, it feels like it’s the only thing keeping her sane. She shakes her head the tiniest bit.

“Look at me.” Dean insists.

Who is Robin to deny him anything? She opens her eyes slowly. The sight before her almost pains her. He’s too beautiful for this world, she decides.

Dean leans in all the way and kisses her. It starts slow, gentle, but evolves into something desperate quicker than either of them would like to admit.

“Stop.” Robin says when she pulls away. She stands when she thinks she can’t keep herself from kissing him again. She even takes a few steps back, putting distance between them. She feels erratic. Her heart is losing its goddamn mind. She notices tears welling up in her eyes and hates that this is who she is. “Stop.” She repeats, ignoring the slight hysteria in her tone.

“Robin-” Dean starts about to stand.

She puts her hand up halting him. “Please.” She begs. “I’ve asked you before. Dean, if you can’t give me more, I can’t- I _can’t._ This hurts too much, alright? I know myself, I know what I can’t take. I’m not strong enough for this.”

“Robin...” Dean trails off. He doesn’t know what to say. What do to. Hates that he’s managing to hurt her.

“Please.” She repeats, then turns and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are gifts that cost 0$ so feel free to leave me some :P If only because it's my birthday tomorrow, wooh!
> 
> Disclaimer (bit of a spoiler): Through Mary's behaviour I tried to illustrate what is called depression. In my head canon that's what she's going through which makes a lot of sense. She was in a sort of utopia and was then thrown on earth where there's so much heartache to go around. So that's what that is.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	11. Are you trying to die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I introduce another original character but it's a minor one. We get to see more of Robin outside of how the boys know her though which is cool :)

“What are you guys talking about?” Dean asks entering the kitchen the next morning.

Robin looks at him and offers a small smile. What she wants to do is kiss him hard and cuddle for a thousand years. Dean gives her a tired smile back. Neither slept very well.

“We’re thinking of having Rowena slow down Robin’s heart enough for it to stop completely and then having her start it back up.”

“Kind of like a remix of our reincarnation idea, only this time no deities to turn us down.” Robin explains further.

Dean shakes his head, rubbing his face sleepily, and moves towards the coffee. “Bad idea. Rowena is just like any other supernatural creature, the minute she sees Robin she’ll feel compelled to kill her.” He pours the coffee into his mug and walks to where Robin and Sam are standing around the end of the counter, topping off their cups with what’s left in the pot. “Granted, in this case we want her to kill you but we also want her to bring you back.”

“Shit, I hadn’t even thought of that.” Robin says, thoughtfully. “Crowley was able to resist it though, what’s to say Rowena won’t be able to do the same?”

Sam shakes his head this time. “Dean’s right. It’s too much of a gamble.”

“Besides,” Dean adds. “We’d be handing you over on a silver platter, I think there’s only so much they can refrain.”

“Okay, that’s okay.” Robin says not letting the new development dampen her mood or determination. “We revert back to what I was telling you before, Sam.” She turns to Dean. “We get it done medically.”

“Medically?” The older Winchester asks, trying to keep the skepticism out of his tone. Robin’s tough but he knows this has her freaked out. She doesn’t want to die.

“Yeah.” Robin nods. “Let’s ditch the supernatural, which makes a lot of sense since that is what’s out to get me. Let’s approach it like humans. A doctor can stop my heart and start it again.”

“Robin,” Sam starts in a way that makes Dean think Robin and his brother have had this conversation before. “I really don’t think that’s a thing. That’s why I brought up Rowena.”

“Oh no, it’s a thing.” Dean interjects almost too eagerly. “I saw it on Dr. Sexy MD.” He grins.

Sam looks at him incredulously.

“See!” Robin exclaims. “Good, solid plan.”

“Robin,” Sam sighs. “Even if it was medically possible, where are we going to find a doctor willing to do this.”

“I know people. I have friends.” She says rolling her eyes. Dean chuckles at that. “Despite spending almost all of my time underground since I’ve met you, I’m no shut in. I can go and be back by tonight.”

“There’s no way we’re letting you go alone.” Dean snaps seriously, his jovial attitude shifting.

“Guys-”

“Robin, you’re not seriously arguing with us about this, are you?” Sam asks looking hurt and disappointed.

“I’m not-” She sighs. “I don’t mean to, but guys I can’t ask you to leave your mom. You’ve already done so much.”

“She’ll come with.” Dean deadpans.

“Dean...” Robin starts, unsure of how to phrase her thoughts. “I’m a literal beacon for supernatural crap, your mom won’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole. And I don’t want her to, either. I don’t want that weighing on my conscious.”

“Hard being on the flip side, huh?” Dean says. It’s so quiet Robin isn’t even sure she really heard it. Then Sam’s talking, saying something about letting their mom decide. It’s like Dean didn’t speak at all. Robin would believe it, too, if it weren’t for the way he was looking at her, tormented and constrained. “Family trip.” Dean states finally looking away from her. Robin thinks he might have interrupted Sam, but she isn’t sure.

“Don’t call it that.” Sam reprimands. “Last time wasn’t great.”

“Last time was a family hunting trip. This time it’s just a family trip to...” He looks at Robin expectantly. 

“Mercy North Urgent Care in Iowa.” She supplies.

Dean snaps his fingers. “Mercy North Urgent Care, Iowa. What says family fun more than that?” He says twirling a finger around in a ‘wrap up’ motion, then starts walking out of the kitchen with his coffee.

“Yeah family trip with impending attacks from creatures at any given time.” Sam mumbles. “Very different from hunting.”

“What was that, Sammy?” Dean calls and lets a beat pass before adding, “I’ll speak to mom. Meet at the front in 20.” Then he’s gone.

“What are you snickering at?” Sam asks, pushing at Robin’s shoulder lightly.

“Oh you wanna go, Samson?” Robin threatens, calling upon the MMA Fighter within. She sets her coffee down and rounds the counter. She crouches slightly and lifts her fists. “Come at me.” She pauses and straightens up. With a deep presenter voice she says, “Are you ready to ruuuuummmbleeeee.” 

Sam can’t help the smile as he rolls his eyes as hard as he humanly can. He puts a large hand on Robin’s face and starts walking her out of the kitchen. “Alright alright, come on Robin, The Wreck, Fera.”

Robin laughs gleefully, her lips curling against his palm, and walks backwards allowingherself to be lead out of the room. “That was good, Sam. I feel thoroughly burned!”

-

Half an hour later they’re all piling into the impala, Robin and Sam sharing the back seat.

“Hey why is there a tarp on my car?” Robin asks curiously.

“Dust.” Dean answers simply.

“Oh that’s so sweet of you.”

“Also, it’s ugly and I don’t like seeing it every time I go out to get us some food.”

“Less sweet, jackass.” Robin retorts then remembers that his mother is in the car. “I mean, friend.” She tries to save. 

Mary doesn’t seem to have noticed a thing, though. She’s leaning her head on the passenger window, essentially collapsed against the door.

Robin goes quiet and remains that way along with everyone else for most of the ride. A few hours in she elbows Sam lightly.

“What do you think about Samlet? Like Hamlet, but Sam-like.” She asks earnestly in a low voice.

“Just out of curiosity,” Sam whispers back. “When you say you’re great at nicknames is it a conclusion you came to yourself or did some liar tell you that?”

“Very rude, Salmon.”

“Salmon, really?”

“You don’t hear Deanold complain about his nickname.” She argues.

“What even is that? Are you saying he’s old or are you fusing Dean to the name Donald?” He asks genuinely wondering how her mind works but mostly making fun of her.

She thinks for a moment. “Which is better?” She asks.

Sam laughs.

“What are you guys gossiping about back there?” Dean demands from the front seat, looking over his shoulder briefly.

“Nothing!” Both Robin and Sam chime.

-

It’s another few hours before they arrive to the hospital. Sam is crouched beside the open passenger door, talking to his mom. Robin and Dean are at the trunk choosing select weapons. 

“A machete isn’t exactly subtle, Dean.”

“Hospital. Blood. Vampires.” Dean counters.

“Mm.” Robin hums back. “You guys have an impressive arsenal.” She compliments, rooting around.

“Yours isn’t too shabby.” He throws back.

She stops analysing the blade in her hand and looks at him. “How would you know?” Her brows furrow.

“Oh... Um... We might have rummaged around your car when we first kidnapped you.” He shifts nervously.

She doesn’t notice his fidgeting as she half sits on the bumper. “Jesus, feels like forever ago.” She muses staring into nothing, then her gaze snaps back to Dean. “Didn’t that tip you off to my being a hunter?”

He shrugs.

She laughs. “Y’all ain’t as slick as you’d have the world believe, Winchester.” She winks and stands to pocket the silver knife she’d been handling.

Dean feels a jolt as he shuts the trunk. Winking and smirking had practically become a language for them. Here she is telling him they can return to whatever normal they had.

“You guys ready?” Sam asks stepping up to them.

“Yeah, here.” Robin confirms and hands him a dagger.

“Is mom alright?” Dean questions, offering him a pistol as well.

“Yeah. I mean no. I mean, not as good as yesterday but better than before.”

Dean nods curtly staring intently at his own gun. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Hey wait up.” Robin pipes, stopping him from taking his first step with a hand on his chest. Which she withdraws. “Aren’t you going to put that,” She taps the weapon in his hand with a finger. “Away? We’re going into a place of healing, y’know.”

“Hospitals are cold places of business, it’s an industry, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He educates tucking the gun away all the same. 

“Damn, son, you woke af.” Robin replies, astounded.

Dean turns to Sam. “Was that english? What is she saying?”

“Let’s just go.” Sam requests laughing and turning away from the pair to fall into step with his mother.

“So who are we even here to meet?” Dean asks Robin as they follow. “How do we know we can trust them?”

“Old friend. We go way back. Definitely trust worthy. She’s the older sister of one of the people I used to hunt with in college. She never really got mixed up in,” She waves her hand around. “All this. But she makes herself available for when a hunter needs medical attention and discretion. She used to patch us up all the time when we got beat beyond what our shitty stitches could handle.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about Robin hurt that badly. Seeing her bruised after their own fights was hard enough. “And she’ll do this for you?”

Robin shrugs. “She’s human so at least she won’t try to kill me with the intention of leaving me dead.”

“You’re too flippant for your own good.”

“My parent’s got me a fish once, named him flipper. He died within, two days I think it was, from being car sick. I couldn’t hold the jug steady enough.” She shares flippantly. “Let me do the talking.” She says as they enter the hospital and approach the counter.

-

Within minutes the Winchesters and Robin are walking to office E-5311.

“Boys, I think I’m going to sit this part out.”

“Is everything okay mom?” Sam asks immediately placing a hand on her elbow and an arm around her shoulder.

Mary smiles weakly. “I’m fine.” She shrugs out of his grasp which, naturally, shatters his heart. “I’ll get us some bad coffee, yeah? Text me, I know how to do that now,” She winks. “When you’re done.”

She doesn’t really give them time to answer before she’s halfway back up the hall they just walked down.

“Okay.” Sam says low for no one to hear.

Robin and Dean hear though. The trio continue down the hall until they reach the door of one Dr. Grace Przekop, or so the plaque says. Robin knocks.

“Mother of the righteous holy spirit, I thought George was playing a prank on me when the reception called to say I had a Robin Fera to see me.” The woman blurts, pulling Robin into a hug. She pulls away holding the huntress at arms length. “You look good, Robbie.” Then the doctor smacks her upside the head.

“Ow! Jesus, Grace, the fuck?”

“You know what that was for. Come in, come in,” She ushers the three of them into the room barely paying attention to the large men her long lost friend has brought with her. “We’ll disturb the peace out there.”

“Christ, though, that hurt.” Robin complains rubbing at her temple. “Are you wearing rings?” She asks in disbelief.

“Don’t start with me.” The doctor counters. “A year and a half Robin? Where the fuck have you been?”

Robin casually strolls further into the room and hops up on the massive wood desk. “You make it sound like I disappeared off the face of the earth. We’ve talked on the phone at least once a month.”

The doctor, Grace, stalks up to her. “Yeah but you never visit do you?” She pulls out her otoscope from her breast pocket and peers into Robin’s ears. “We need to find out your location from that blog of yours.” She moves to the other ear. “Y’know your ragtag team of misfits send me snapchats of food all the time. They’re working their way through every diner you review.”

“You guys still read my blog!” Robin coos.

“Shut up and open.” Grace snaps, standing in front of Robin again, now holding a popsicle stick.

Robin obediently opens her mouth and just to be a shit goes, “Aaaah.”

“Oh shove it, Robin.”

Robin smiles at the doctor softly. “I missed you.”

“Yeah me too.” Grace moves in for another hug. “We all do.” She says when she pulls away.

“Yeah? I’m pretty great so that makes a lot of sense.”

Grace rolls her eyes.

“How are they all doing? I haven’t been keeping up with them as much as you because-”

“I know, Robin, you don’t need to explain it to me.” Grace assures

Robin nods. “How’s Rodney?” She asks. 

Grace sighs fondly. “That brother of mine, still out there fighting the good fight with Amy and George. They’re all good, really.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t torn each other apart.” She laughs. “Is he still hunting down Aelaunor?”

“Nope. They got her around easter earlier this year.” The doctor  answers flicking a flashlight onto and off of Robin’s eyes.

“No shit? Did he become a brooding cliché that didn’t know what to do with himself post-revenge?” Robin laughs again.

“Fuck no. That kid would take his own life before becoming a cliché. Or brooding for that matter. Fucking loves life too much. Take a deep breath.” She orders pressing the stethoscope to Robin’s back. She counts heart beats for fifteen seconds. Then takes two steps away from the girl on her desk, placing the stethoscope back around her neck. “You seem good. No blood on your clothes.” She eyes Robin from head to toe. “How’s it going in that big head of yours?” The doctor asks stepping forward again, concerned. “Has it gotten worse? Is that why you’re here?”

“Wha- Oh! No! No, I’m cured of me synesthesia.” Robin grins.

Grace raises an eyebrow. “I’m a neurosurgeon, I know it’s not an illness that goes away, Robbie. Do you mean you’re managing it with medication now?”

Robin shakes her head. “Nah, dude, y’know I’m not down with pill poppin’. I met an angel and he healed me.”

Grace’s composure shifts into a defensive demeanor, sizing up the two men in her office for the first time. “Robin, I swear to God if you got mixed up in some cult I will-”

“No, Gracie, for reals. I met an angel, soldier of god, the whole shebang. He, like, touched me- Not like that! Jesus, Grace. He-” Robin stops and turns to the boys, brows furrowed. “Has Cas ever... Y’know what, none of my business.” She turns back to grace. “I swear this is legit. Go on, talk dirty to me.”

Dean and Sam have been sharing looks throughout the entirety of the women’s exchange but at this point Dean can’t help but to physically mouth ‘What the fuck’ to his brother. Sam shrugs.

Grace eyes Robin skeptically. “Vampire.” She spits like it’s an attack. Robin doesn’t flinch, goes even as far as smirking smugly. “Seen any explosions lately? An ‘X’ that marks the spot?”

This time Robin’s entire face darkens. “Fuck you, Grace, that was uncalled for.” Robin bites hoping to her feet.

“I know, I know.” The doctor concedes pulling the huntress into a quick tight hug. “I thought maybe you were on some kind of supernatural happy drugs. I needed to make sure you were still you.”

“Yeah okay.” Robin says easing up and leaning against the desk, but remaining visibly tense. At least visibly tense to Dean. 

“How is this even possible? An angel, really? Christ. From how Amy and the guys talk about them they’re dicks not healers. Wait, so does that mean you’re hunting again?”

Robin nods almost shyly and Dean thinks it’s the most endearing thing on the face of the planet.

“So you’re meeting up with Rodney and the others?” Grace says excitedly.

The words take Robin by surprise. Her eyes drift to the brothers that mostly look confused and out of place. She hadn’t really thought of anything past fixing her situation. Anything past the Winchesters. She hadn’t stayed in one place for so long other than college and she was starting to forget the bunker wasn’t her home. The Winchesters were just sharing theirs with her. 

“We have more pressing matters to attend to.” Robin finally answers. She doesn’t miss the hurt in Dean’s eyes.

“I’m guessing the reason you came to see me in the first place?” Grace asks rolling her eyes and toppling back in one of the two seats usually reserved for patients and visiting doctors.

“Yeah. Do you want the short or the long version?”

“Give me a long winded run on sentence that is concise and to the point.”

Robin nods and grins at the challenge. She delivers impressively.

“God is real? He has a sister? He’s a he? People are being brought back to life? The cosmos is a dick? You’re on a supernatural motherfucking hit list? Only you can get yourself into so much trouble while not even hunting. I can’t with you.”

“I’m glad you prioritise my well being over God’s gender. Thanks, Gracie.”

“What the fuck ever, I’m shook that he isn’t a woman.”

“Actually, we aren’t too sure. His vessel was a man, but he himself I think is genderless.” Sam interjects helpfully.

“Who are they?” Grace asks Robin pointing over her shoulder with her thumb effectively ignoring Sam.

“Friends. They’re helping me deal with this whole impending death thing.”

“Okay okay, so what can I do?”

“You have to kill me. But only for a few seconds. Then you bring me back.”

Grace laughs. Laughs and laughs then stops. “You’re not kidding? Robin, what the fuck? What are you talking about?”

“I know it sounds batshit. But we think if my life technically ends then it’ll reset things and I won’t be hunted for the rest of it.”

“No shit you won’t be hunted, you’ll be _dead.”_

“Not if you bring me back!”

Grace shakes her head and rolls her eyes simultaneously, contributing to her growing head ache.

“You’ve lost it.”

“Look.” Dean steps forward. “I don’t know that it’s my place to interfere here, but Robin is in very real danger and as insane as this sounds it’s the only plan we’ve got. Nothing else has worked. We need a doctor to do this, and we’ll get one. You just get to decide if it’s going to be you.”

“The fuck is this guy?” Grace asks again looking back at Robin.

“Dean Winchester. Pleased to-” Dean starts to answer for himself, annoyed.

Grace’s head snaps back to him. “Dean Winchester. Of The Brothers Winchester?” She turns to Sam suddenly remembering his presence. Her head snaps back to Robin. “You got mixed up with _The Winchesters_. I thought you weren’t even hunting. Have you lost your goddamn mind Robin? Are you _trying_ to die?”

The boys feel small and shuffle closer to each other unconsciously. “At least she knows who we are.” Dean murmurs to Sam trying to joke.

“Grace be quiet.” Robin says calmly. “You have no idea what you’re going on about and I get that you’re worried about me but this pair of _heroes_ have been keeping me alive and well all the while trying to find a solution for me.”

The brothers can’t help but feel pride at being defended by Robin, at being called heroes, as well as but impressed with her way with words. It’d have been easy for her to go off and yell but instead she’s collected.

“This is what I need from you right now.” Robin continues. “I get if you won’t do it, I do, but-”

“Of course, I’ll do it, Robin. Did you get stupid or something?” The older woman sighs and rises to her feet. “Follow me.”

They enter a room adjacent to the office. It’s a simple hospital room with a gurney, a medicine cabinet and a defibrillator. 

“Sit. Lie down.” She orders and moves to the medicine cabinet and retrieves two vials and two syringes. 

“So you can actually do this?” Sam asks.

“I said I would didn’t I?” The doctor snaps then sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She turns to face him and his brother. “I am. I’m a little on edge. I haven’t seen this one in over a year and now she’s asking me to kill her.”

“And bring her back.” Sam jokes holding no grudge. “No pressure.”

The woman laughs then turns back to Robin. “I’m going to inject you with this. It’s a drug that’s used as a relaxant, to calm patients and such.” She explains filling one of the syringes with urine yellow liquid. “An excess of it slows your heart too much and kills you. That’s our aim. I’ll give you three seconds,” She gives Robin a stern look. “Three seconds for the universe to register your death or whatever then I’m going to hit you with this. An upper, if you will.” She starts filling the second syringe with a completely clear liquid. “It’s fast acting so coupled with a bit of shock therapy,” She nods to the defibrillator. “It should wake you back up.”

“Should?” Dean asks walking up to Robin.

“I doubt there’s an exact science to killing patients, Dean.” Robin jokes but places her hand on top of his on the mattress reassuringly. 

Dean turns to her, looks at her full frontal and it hits him- pardon the phrase- like a ton of red bricks. He feels like if he leans towards her just a bit he’ll tip forward and fall into her, sucked by some gravitational pull into a void of sorts. “Robin.” He chokes. “Maybe this isn’t the right call. You don’t have to do this.”

Robin smiles at him comfortingly. “What are my odds, doc.” She asks not looking away from Dean.

“Solid ninety if all goes well.”

“See. Now I know you don’t have my fancy science degree,” Robin teases. “But 90 percent is a good percentage.”

“Robin, even if you live it doesn’t mean it’ll work. We’re basing this on a hunch. Maybe the cosmos won’t even consider you as dead. Maybe they will and it won’t matter because they want you to stay dead.”

“Dean... We’re running out of option here. Besides we drove all this way.” She squeezes his hand and then pries it off of hers. He hadn’t noticed he’d been clutching her with all ten fingers.

He nods slowly and moves back to the wall where Sam is. His brother claps a hand on his shoulder in solidarity.

“Robin when you die, you better come back. It’s the Winchester way.” Sam warns with a smile.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She banters despite the flutter in her heart at Sam’s words.

Grace finishes hooking up Robin with all the necessary wires and the sounds of the EKG floods the room. Robin’s heartbeat is impressively steady.

“How much did you eat today?” Grace asks.

“A lot.” Robin answers thinking back to the double order she’d gotten from the drive through they’d stopped at. Twice.

“Like thanksgiving junior year a lot? Or a lot like that morning after we found you locked out of your dorm butt naked.”

Robin thinks seriously. “George’s twenty first birthday a lot.” She answers. 

“I should probably get a bit more of this then.” She adds more of the relaxing drug to her syringe and checks for air bubbles. Then she fiddles with the defibrillator, Robin only now notices was brought closer to the bed. She inserts the syringe into the tube sticking out of Robin’s already tapped vein. “Ready?” Grace asks, thumb on the plunger.

“What no parting words?”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, because you’re ugly. Besides, I’m a damn good doctor and you best not forget it, Fera.” She winks and pushes the plunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt any of this is medically accurate but also idc :P
> 
> I'm in finals rn which is not so fun, but I hope you're all having a nice week :)
> 
> The comments section is a few inches below if you were in the mood to drop some feedback.
> 
> 2 Chapters left :O!!!!


	12. I knew your love before I kissed you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for tuning in again :) A head's up: This is the penultimate chapter!
> 
> The title to this chapter is taken from the song Lovesick by Banks. I basically played it on a loop while writing the last scene.

“She’s dead.” Grace mutters. “She’s actually freaking dead.” The flat line sound of the EKG is almost deafening. “‘Do no harm.’ I said. ‘For the benefit of the ill.’ I said. Hippocratic oath my ass. The hypocritical oath is what it is.” She fumbles for the second syringe and pushes the clear liquid into Robin’s vein. “Motherfucking hypocritical oath of fucking death.” She charges the defibrillator and gives Robin a hit.

Nothing happens.

Dean can’t breathe. He’s going to be sick. He never should have let her do this. He never should have allowed things to get this far. He was supposed to protect her. 

“Clear.” He hears Grace say as another jolt is sent into Robin’s body.

Nothing happens. 

Dean is pinned in place. Maybe Sam’s hand on his shoulder is doing the pinning. This isn’t right. She shouldn’t have to pay for this. If someone should pay the price of his mother coming back to life it should be him. It was _for him_. He’s been on borrowed time for a while anyway.

“Clear.”

Nothing happens.

“You take me.” Dean yells to the ceiling. “You hear me Chuck? Amara! The Cosmos who ever the fuck. You leave her out of this!” He screams, a rasp already in his voice. He only knows he’s crying when he tastes a salty tear on his lip. “You take _me._ ”

“Clear.”

Robin takes a large gasping breath and the rhythmic beep of the EKG returns. 

Dean is on her in a second almost shoving Grace out of the way. He’s pressing the young huntress to his chest as string of curses fall from his lips.

Robin focuses on breathing. Maybe she also focuses on the feeling of being in Dean’s arms.

“Quit hogging her.” Sam says minutes later and goes in for a hug of his own. Dean doesn’t actually let go so they’re just three sets of tangled limbs.

Grace raises and eyebrow at Robin when they make eye contact over Sam’s shoulder. She’s at the window, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke out through the small opening. “So they care. That doesn’t mean I’m convinced they’re good people for you to be around.”

The boys remove themselves from Robin. Dean keeps the side of his little finger pressed to Robin’s thigh. Robin stares down her friend, imploring her to trust her words. “They’re great people.” She pauses. “Neither of them has thought about telling me where they keep the washing machine, mind you, so I’ve been forced to go commando at times. So maybe great isn’t the word. But they’re great for me.”

“She isn’t alive for five minutes and she’s already managed to mildly insult us.” Sam states shaking his head even while his heart warms at her confession. It’s not often that he and his brother get praise or... affection. It feels nice, dammit.

“Which reminds me. I thought of the perfect nickname for you while I was dead. Samba. Eh? Eh?” She wiggles her brows at him. When all he does is stare back she elaborates. “You know like Simba... from the Lion King.”

“Oh no, I got it.” Sam assures. “I’m gonna go find mom. Meet you guys back at the car. Grace.” He nods. 

“Well then.” Robin huffs and moves to get up only to find Dean strapped onto her again. “Dean?”

“Right sorry.” He takes one large step back and brushes her shoulders clear of imaginary dust. “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be waiting just outside the office.” He heads out, reluctant to leave her side.

Robin removes the tubes sticking out of her skin slowly, trying to avoid the pinch of pain, and adjusts her clothing before standing. She turns the EKG off silencing it.

“You’re in pretty deep, Robin.” Grace states, extinguishing her cig and leaving it at the window sill. 

“We’re gonna go see if it worked and if it did then I won’t be anymore.”

“I don’t mean that. You’re welcome by the way.” Grace jokes walking to stand in front of Robin. “You’ve got the short one whipped.”

“He’s not _short._ Sam, is just massive.”

“And he’s repaid the favour. You’re just as gone as him.”

“More.” Robin whispers looking down. “But it won’t work.” 

“Why’s that?” Grace asks.

“Y’know how you’re upset with me for hanging around Winchesters because it’s rumored that everyone who does dies?”

“Yeah?”

“Dean agrees.”

Grace takes a minute to let that sink in. “He’s all kinds of fucked up isn’t he?”

“No.” Robin shakes her head fondly. “It’s just easier to pretend we’re broken than accept we’re human and that humans are messy. Dean he...he doesn’t know how to take even what’s given to him. Doesn’t make him fucked up, just makes him Dean. There’s room for improvement, trust me, but it’s not something that’s _wrong_ with him. It’s just him.”

“You’re unreal y’know? You’re always spewing some kind of Disney bull that makes too much sense. Shut up and get out of my office you wise piece of shit.” Grace says pulling Robin into a hug. They hold each other for a long minute.

“We good?” Dean asks when Robin steps through the door.

“Yeah.” She smiles and they start walking towards the elevator.

“You’re not even wobbling. You’re a warrior if I ever saw one.”

“Kind of felt like a nap, to be honest.” She describes being dead.

“Well you definitely died. The machine went beeeeeeeeeeeep. Do you remember any of it.”

“No. I just remember thinking that I wanted to call Grace the ugly one and then I was sucking in air like my life depended on it. Which, I guess, it did.”

“Well, let’s find out if it worked.”

“Let’s.”

-

“So who are all those people she was talking about?” Sam asks from the back seat of the car.

“George, Amy and Rodney.” Robin nods. “George is my cousin on my mom’s side.”

“Richard’s son?” Mary asks.

“Yeah. You knew uncle Rich too?”

Mary nods then returns to resting her forehead on the glass. When she doesn’t volunteer more information, Sam speaks.

“So your uncle and cousin hunt too? I didn’t know there were more Feras.”

“There aren’t. Fera was my dad’s name.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense.” Sam concedes.

“My uncle was raised in hunting with my mom. He raised George in to too just like my parents did with me. George’s mom didn’t stick around after she gave birth, unrelated to the hunting believe it or not. So it was just him and his dad. Then uncle Rich died and George finished getting his high school degree with us before going off to college. A year later my parents died and I followed him there. Rodney’s his best friend and hunting partner so he moved out to that college town too. He and I dated for a while, actually.”

“You date your cousin?” Sam asks.

“No, dude, Rodney. That’s Grace’s little brother. When they were really young they were in an orphanage being tormented by demons and uncle Rich saved them. That’s how Rodney and George met. They became goddamn pen pals. Can you believe that? Archaic.” She laughs and it’s full of love. “Amy’s another hunter we met on campus. The four of us just fell together. They still hunt with each other now.”

“What about that other chick, your doc friend mentioned.” Dean asks from the front seat. He sees Robin’s brows furrow in the rearview mirror. “Eleanor, I think?”

“Oh. Aelaunor. It’s not a she. It’s one of the demons that was messing with the kids in the orphanage. It um...it killed Rodney and Grace’s youngest sister. Uncle Rich exorcised it, he did his best, y’know? They didn’t know how to kill demons back then. Kill them dead, I mean. Just sent it’s ass back to hell. Rodney’s been after it for a long time. Revenge and all that.” She continues looking out the window. The sun is almost completely hidden beyond the horizon and rain begins to trickle down. “He finally got it, I suppose.” She sighs.

-

They stop in Sutton on their way back to Kansas. The drizzle has evolved into full fledged showers when they summon a crossroads demon. They kill it mid sentence as he utters the words “Fera. We want you-”. By the end of it, the rain is falling in sheets. Their clothing is completely soaked through. Robin stares in disbelief at the corpse in the devil’s trap.

“It didn’t work.” She mutters in disbelief.

Dean moves to her side. “Robin.”

She looks up, sideways, and meets his eyes. “It didn’t work.” She repeats.

Then she’s crying. The tears are poring hard and fast rivaling the rainfall of the sky. She moves into Dean’s arms and begs him to hold her together. “It didn’t work.” She repeats it like a mantra. Like she needs it to sink it. She doesn’t. She understands her reality, now. This had been their last shot and _it didn’t work_.

Dean has Sam drive the rest of the way home as he holds Robin on the now wet backseat of the impala. 

The rest of the drive is somehow less quiet than the one out to Iowa. Robin’s sobs fill the space like and ugly promise of departure.

-

That night the thunder outside sets the tone inside the bunker. Once they’re all showered and cleaned up, they meet in the library. All save for Mary who’s returned to her bed.

The trio sit in silence for longer than either brother is comfortable with. Robin is mostly in her own head. Has been on autopilot since getting out of the car.

“Robin-” Sam ventures.

“We’re going to find a way.” She says the words before him, plastering a smile on her face and doing her best to mean it. “Maybe...We aren’t supposed to though.”

“Robin don’t start with this. I know we took a hit today but we will find a solution.” Dean says, sure of himself. “You promised me you wouldn’t give up.”

“I’m not.” She smiles softly. “I’m just returning to an earlier assessment. Maybe we can’t stop this because we aren’t supposed to. Maybe I’m supposed to hunt and use it to my advantage. Whatever happens...happens...”

Dean shakes his head and taking a page out of Robin’s book remains calm. A true testimony to how much this girl has impacted him. “I get that you want to hunt and do good, but what you’re saying is too dangerous, Robin. Do you know how lucky we are that hospital wasn’t crawling with monsters?”

Robin sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“I think we all need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll be able to think clearer, make a game plan.” Sam suggests.

“Good idea, Sammy. You go on ahead.” Dean replies, his eyes not leaving Robin’s, effectively dismissing his brother. 

Sam does as he’s told, kissing the top of Robin’s head on his way out.

“There’s something I want you to see.” Dean tells Robin. He walks her to the garage, hand in hand. The quiet of the bunker seems to seep into their bones. It, along with the time of the night, seems to allow the tender contact of interlaced fingers. “I’m not done. Still working on the inside and the business under the hood, but the paint dried a day ago so I figure might as well show you.” He lets go of her hand to pull the tarp off of Robin’s ratty jeep.

At least it used to be Robin’s ratty Jeep. The car she calls home. It’s a slick burgundy colour now. The dents and scratches gone. Her bumper has been replaced as well as all the glass.

“When?” She asks chocking on some tears. What’s with her and all the crying, today? She shakes her head as if erasing her words: _Not when._ “Why?” She asks her eyes boring into his.

“Does it matter?”

She laughs wetly and shakes her head again, this time ridding herself of the tears. For a second time that night, she steps into his arms, a place she’s found she belongs, and hugs him tight. “Thank you.” She murmurs into his chest.

-

The following morning, it’s business as usual. Robin, back to her ordinary self with a renewed will to come out victorious, and the brothers work hard to find a solution. Mary ambles up and down halls like a ghost when she isn’t in bed. Castiel stops by to deliver no news at all. He does think the angels are warming up to him, though. He squeezes Robin’s shoulder and says ‘You are strong.’ before disappearing again.

Around three, Robin has had enough.

“Can we please take a break.” She jumps to her feet when she sees Dean reach for his phone, probably to put a food order in somewhere for pickup. “No! A real break. Like the rest of the afternoon long break. I know things are dire and doom is pending and the planet is going to explode but we need to fucking chill. In many senses of the word.”

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Sam teases her for getting so heated on the matter.

His words jolt Dean into remembering that Robin has been going commando. He eyes her crotch then looks up at her. She looks down at her own crotch then back up at him, eyes wide. 

“Go put a fucking movie in or something. I’m making pop corn.” She orders threateningly before stalking off to the kitchen. “We’re gonna need booze.”

“What happened?” Sam asks dumbfounded.

Dean smirks. “Nothing to concern yourself with, brother.”

-

“Drink.” Sam orders and Robin takes the dutiful shot.

She flips a coin.

“Heads.” Dean calls.

“Oi sorry, Deanold.” She slurs slightly showing him the tail side of the coin. “Truth, dare or lore?”

“This game is dumb.” Dean grumbles.

“You’re just upset because you were too drunk to remember if faeries travel in packs or not.” Sam counters as he _giggles,_ a little more than a little tipsy

Robin laughs. “It’s true. You’re kind of stupid.” She laughs again.

“Whatever. Hit me with a dare.” Dean challenges.

Robin and Sam share a mischievous look.

“Shit.”

-

“Dean, I eat and write about eating professionally. If you think I won’t eat this pie faster than you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him, Robin.” Sam councils.

“Leave her, Sam. It’ll just make it sting more when she loses.”

“Game on, Winchester.”

-

“No but y’see the real tragedy is that Dr. Sexy doesn’t even realise how wrapped up he is in his own sexiness. Doesn’t realise how it’s contributed to his ego and how that in turn affects his relationships. And since he doesn’t even realise it he can’t fix it.”

“Shut up, Robin. Dr. Sexy has no flaws.”

“Right down to the cowboy boots, huh Dean?”

-

“I’m beat. Night.” Sam waves tiredly.

“G’night, Sample.”

“Oh my god.”

-

“This is nice. Is it wrong that I’m enjoying this so much.”

“Enjoying what?” Dean asks looking down at Robin’s head in his lap. “The hangover? I still think we should have kept drinking. If we’re going to day drink, it should be sin to stop at midnight. What time is it now?” He looks at his watch and answers himself. “Just past one.” He looks back down at Robin and pets her hair. He likes how the frizz in it kind of makes it look like she has a halo at times.

“Enjoying being close to you.” She replies ignoring everything he’s said so far.

Dean feels the air in his lungs disappear. Hearing Robin say things like that has such an effect.

“I know, I told you to stop before. I still think it’s the right call. This is just so much harder than I thought it’d be.” Robin impresses even herself with how honest she’s being, sober and all.

Dean nods. “Maybe it’s hard because it isn’t right.”

Robin sits up suddenly and watches Dean intently. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to fight it. Maybe I’m not supposed to stand in our own way. I just, I want you so much. I want this. And I never let myself want things. Have things. I...I just...I don’t know that I know how to...” Dean’s frail voice trails off, willing her to understand.

A tense moment stretches between them like they’re on the precipice of something. Of everything. And they are.

Robin extends her arm to touch him. She lays her hand on top of the one in his lap. Doesn’t squeeze or anything. Just connects them.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok, Dean.” She says, nodding her head slightly. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

“Yeah?” He asks in a breath, hesitant, a grin splitting his face all the while.

“Yeah. Yes.”

A moment stretches again where they just look at each other. See each other. Like they’ll always be on a precipice with each other.

Then, Dean rises from his seat and like he has all the time in the world, like he isn’t afraid to have this taken away from him, he stands in front of Robin, leans down and kisses her.

He does it gently, like she’s made of glass, but he’s the one who thinks he might break.

When the kiss ends, Robin stands as well. She starts making her way to the bedroom. She walks backwards down the hall, their hands still connected. Holding his gaze. It’s not a seduction, but it’s a promise.

Dean follows, bound to her through their clasped fingers. Bound to her in every way. There isn’t a world where he wouldn’t follow her.

They enter the room like they have so many times before but also unlike any time before. Dean presses the door shut with a palm while pressing Robin into him with an arm at her lower back. They kiss, their bodies flushed. They only part when Dean drags Robin’s t-shirt off. Their kisses spread to cheeks and jaw lines, necks and shoulders, breasts and nipples.

Robin wonders how there was a time when this wasn’t all that she wanted. How she could have denied this. How there was a time she didn’t know this was inevitable. Dean and her are inevitable. They were always supposed to happen and it was always supposed to be absolute. Feel absolute.

Dean leads her to the bed and presses her into the mattress. The same place he had tossed her, what seems like too long ago. His eyes never leave hers as he unbuttons and removes her jeans managing to drag one of her socks off with them. He smiles at her warmly from his position still standing at the foot of the bed and Robin thinks a picture should be taken. He lifts the still sock clad leg up to rest against his chest and shoulder. He plucks the garment off and flings it away. She laughs at the theatrics.

The lightness of the moment is fleeting however as lust pools between her legs when he kisses the inside of her ankle. He makes his way up her calf, peppering her with brushes of his lips, licks and little bites, their eyes still locked. He smirks charmingly when he gets just above her knee and sees a patch of wetness appear on her grey underwear right before his darkening eyes. 

“I thought you ran out?”

“I was rationing. One day yes one day no.” Robin breathes out the words, startled but the blown pupils staring up at her.

He puts his own knee on the bed and continues his ministrations, in no hurry, enjoying the softness of Robin’s thigh and the shivers that wrack through her body. When he finally, _finally_ , gets to the crease of her thigh, he pushes the cotton to the side and gives her a big sloppy kiss. Robin’s moan rings loud and clear in the quiet of the room. Dean continues, circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, dragging it down to her entrance and then back up only to repeat.

She’s so wet and he’s _gleeful_ that it’s for him. That he gets to do this. He gets to please her. It’s a startling realisation, but also like he’s known it all along, when he concludes that this is it. This is everything for him. Saving people. Hunting things. Pleasing Robin. It’s his whole life and it makes him ache with relief to finally have figured it out. He flicks her clit directly now, intermittently kissing her every where else, and rubs her entrance with a dry finger. The friction is already so much for Robin and when he licks her with the flat of his tongue all along her slit it’s _too_ much.

“Dean, Dean, c’mon stop, c’mon _please_.”

Dean halts. He thinks that the universe has decided this is to be taken away from him. That he’s had enough. Which makes sense. Of course he doesn’t get to keep her. Dean feels something inside himself shatter but he can’t bring himself to be angry because he’s goddamn grateful to have had this much already. To have been given this gift. Robin speaks again.

“Dean,” She murmurs. “Come on Dean, _please_. Come up here, Dean please I want you.Stop making me wait. Come on don’t make me wait.” She thinks she’s losing her wits. 

So Dean doesn’t make her wait a moment longer, and part of him knows it’s because he isn’t able to deny her a damn thing. He sits back on his knees to pull her panties off and his own t-shirt follows. Robin doesn’t have to wait long until he’s back on top of her. They’re kissing again and it’s goddamn wonderful and then he’s lining himself up and entering her and _that’s wonderful_. The pace is slow and Dean relishes in every single one of her shudders and moans.

Robin feels so full. Sure Dean’s pretty big and she sometimes did kiegles in the back seat of the impala but it’s love she’s so full of. It’s tacky as hell but it’s fucking true. She feels her heart well up with the emotion for this man. This man who is honor and strength and misery and goodness. He’s everything, she realises with clarity. He’s her maker and she sees her whole life shift into what it’d be shared between the two of them.

He picks up the pace, only slightly, but she was already near the edge and now she’s right on it. The weight of him above her, a blessing. She moans his name exceptionally loud when he shifts just so. He smiles at her, so pleased with himself. She doesn’t know if it’s an official kink and if there’s a name for it, but she comes from seeing happiness etched so beautifully into his features.

Dean fucks her through it and then slows down again, giving her a moment to recuperate. Robin is having none of it. 

It isn’t forceful when she pushes at his chest to turn them, so that she’s on top. It’s all fluid motions and give and take and like it was the premeditated course of action. Like they had rehearsed it. Like they had to end up in this position, with Robin on top, riding him. Dean kicks his pants off completely and makes the picture perfect, all soft skin and hard muscles.

Robin lifts herself up off his dick and then pushes back down building a rhythm that only fuels their lust. She’s lost in it but doesn’t dare close her eyes, doesn’t want to miss a moment on the face of the man beneath her. Dean is all hands, brushing the pads of his thumbs against nipples, rubbing the back of his fingers down her sides loving the way her hips flare out beneath her waist. Before long he’s fucking upwards into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. He doesn’t notice when he starts murmuring things. But Robin does. She latches on to every single syllable he utters like her existence revolves around them. 

With Dean’s hands squeezing her thighs and her world spinning, she comes again.

“ _Dean_.” The word is knocked out of her and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever heard it pronounced so beautifully.

He pulls her down and wraps his arms around her so her breast are pressed to his chest, getting as close to her as he can. She’s grinding onto him now, her clit getting enough friction to send additional thrums of pleasure through her system.

They shift again so that she’s on the mattress, on her side, her leg wrapped around Dean and her head resting on his chest. Her hips move away and then snap back but the pace is slow, languid even. Like they have all the time in the world and for a moment, they believe they do.

Dean buries himself in her hair and inhales, thinking that missionary is severely underrated. One hand is clasped in one of hers on his chest while the arm that’s tucked under her rests at her hip, going along with the movement of her thrusts. He lazily moves it up her body, raising goosebumps in it’s wake, then moves it back down. He walks his fingers down her spine, thumbs at the dimples she has on her lower back and gives her butt cheek a squeeze. He slips that same hand downwards some more and when the tips of his fingers reach her opening and he feels the spot where his cock enters her from the head until he’s bottomed out, he comes.

They keep moving together and it’s a few minutes until Dean slips out of her. When he does the magic they’ve surrounded themselves with doesn’t dissipate. They each have an inkling that it’s embedded in them now. They fall asleep soundly, wrapped up in each other in more ways than one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwwwwwwwww I love my bbys so much i cry for their love  
> An alternate title to this chapter is "Baby, come love me" also a line in Lovesick by Banks.
> 
> There's one chapter left, I have very specific ideas for a sequel, so let me know if you'd be down for that.
> 
> @jennifer: I don't think this chapter will agree with you but I hope you tune in for the last one because I DO think you'll like that.
> 
> Feedback is a lovely thing and I'm grateful to all those who decide to leave me some :)


	13. We backed each other to the hilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST INSTALMENT IS HERE
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it, thank you for tuning in 13 times for 13 different chapters.
> 
> There will be notes at the end about the continuation of this fic, so check that out and let me know what you think!
> 
> Special thanks to pixikinz, here on ao3, for being such a great support.
> 
> This chapter, its title and specifically the last scene, is to the tune of "To the Hilt" by Banks.

Robin is the first to wake up this time. She finds Dean buried in the crook of her neck, seemingly fast asleep. His softened features make him look a decade younger and Robin can’t help but wonder what he was like as a twenty year old. 

“Mm.” Dean hums.

“You’re awake.” Robin whispers.

The man nods against her then breathes, “I am.”

The air of his breath tickles Robin’s skin and she can’t stop the roll of her shoulders. Dean nuzzles in deeper and tightens the arm he has around her. Robin pets his hair and marvels at how surprisingly soft it is. She wonders how she hadn’t noticed it yet. Dean hums against her contentedly again.

A sudden anxiety wells up inside Robin. Dean had essentially committed to her, to them, last night. However, now, in the light of day, or more accurately in the light of the bunker, without the cloak of the night, he could easily go back on his decision. He could regret it. He could change his mind. He could take it back. Robin could lose it all after having it for far too little. Without the neediness the late hour provides, without the strange twilight zone where thoughts aren’t processed correctly, Dean could wake up that day with a totally different attitude. Robin doesn’t know that she could handle that.

“What’s got you so rigid?” Dean asks squeezing her hip, then, with a laugh, adds, “That’s my job.”

Robin chuckles and thumps at his shoulder. The gesture isn’t enough to get Dean to budge but he moves away anyway. He draws back and finally opens his eyes to get a look at her. And what a sight it is. She looks beautiful, perfect. Her hair is mussed up in a way that says ‘Yeah, I just had sex but also I haven’t brushed it in half a week’. There’s crust in her eyes, a reminder of the peaceful sleep they shared. Her lips are chapped and all Dean wants to do is kiss them. He loves how unapologetically secure she is. How, this time, she doesn’t even think of covering herself.

“Hmm?” He prompts her to answer.

Robin shrugs and presses two fingers right above her left collarbone, an attempt at self comfort. It’s the spot Dean knows he’d left her a hickey the last time they did this. It’s long since faded but clearly Robin hasn’t forgotten about it. There’s a growl in the back of his throat when he grips her wrist in one hand. He presses it into the mattress and straddles her in one swift motion, latching his lips to the very spot.

“Dean.” Robin gasps taken off guard.

“Tell me.” Dean orders, returning to the topic at hand without stopping his ministrations. 

“Dean.” Robin moans as he nips at her skin lightly. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Kind of-” She stops to let out another moan. “Hard right now.”

“Not yet,” He counters. “But we’re getting there.” He pulls away from her neck to wink at her before returning to the task of making Robin come undone.

She smacks him on the shoulder again with her free hand, laughing. “Jesus, Dean, God, you’re a goddamn sin with that mouth, you know?”

Dean hums again as he runs the tip of his nose up her throat, then traces the path again with the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck it.” Robin gives in. 

She pulls his face up to hers and kisses him greedily. She drags one hand down his body and wraps her fingers around him. _The liar,_ she thinks when she finds him hard in her hand. She gives a few tugs before adjusting them so he’s at her entrance.

“Jesus, Robin, how are you already so wet for me.” He praises, then murmurs to himself. “All for me.”

Robin doesn’t bother feeling shy and lifts her hips. It pushes his tip against her but not inside of her, instead slipping up her slit. They both moan in unison and the friction.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re too much.” Dean practically reprimands. He wraps her legs high on his hips, lines himself up and fucks into her. 

Robin clutches at the sheets with her newly freed hand while the other moves to Dean’s hip, guiding him despite the man knowing exactly what he’s doing. With the limited leverage she has she pushes up against him, making them collide with a new fervor.

“Yes yes yes yes.” She chants as she nears her end game.

To her surprise, Dean gets there first with a shout of her name. She’s close behind as he thumbs her clit.

Dean rolls off of her and onto his back as they both pant and try to even their breathing.

“There we go.” He says finally, turning on his side to face her and pulling her to him, their naked bodies touching. “Now you’re nice and unwound.”

She laughs. “I’m supposed to believe that was for my benefit then?”

“Of course.” He insists a glint in his eyes. 

“You’re oh so generous, Winchester.”

“Just taking care of my girl.” He explains nonchalantly. 

He says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s their new normal. Like the words don’t hold tremendous meaning. 

Robin nods slowly, allowing realisation to wash over her. Dean wasn’t changing his mind. “Cool.” She accepts casually. “Your girl wants a shower.”

“I think you’ll find, I can be very accommodating.” He winks.

-

They do it in the shower. It’s awkward and Robin swears she almost dies when she slips and Dean barely catches her. They find their groove, eventually, though, and ride it for all they’re worth. 

-

Dean insists on dressing Robin himself. She finds it weird and feels kind of like a child at first but then sort of falls in love with the tenderness of his touch as he places the garments just so on her body. She falls in love with the wink he gives her when he purposefully forgoes underwear, which isn’t a bad idea since she’s down to her last pair. She falls in love with how, seated on her bed, he tugs her forward by the lapels of her jeans placing a kiss where the button will lie before zipping her up. She falls in love with the look in his eyes when he stands and tells her she looks stunning in her ugly t-shirt. 

“My tee is literally the nicest.” She counters thumbing at the hole in the bottom hem and scratching at the lettering ‘I am not amoosed’. She likes the cute drawing of the moose.

-

They find Sam and Mary in the kitchen having a late breakfast.

“Morning Winchesters.” Robin sings, poring coffee for Dean and herself.

“Hey, Robin.” Sam greets. “Are you going to let us do some work today?” He asks before glaring at Dean who steals a slice of toast from his plate and sits beside him.

Robin leans against the counter, looking at the family, and pretends to ponder. “Hmm? Will I allow the best hunters to have ever existed to work hard on saving my life? I think I’d be real stupid not to, huh?”

“Stupid is kind of your MO, don’t you think?” Sam teases.

“Rude.”

“Speaking of.” Mary interjects more brightly than she’s sounded in days. “Robin.”

“Yeah, Ms. Winchester?” Robin asks. Dean snorts. She glares.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you still had the recording from the cosmos? If I could borrow it.”

“Sure thing.” Robin answers moving away from the counter.

“It can wait, sweetheart. Come, eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Robin practically salutes.

“You don’t have to tell her twice.” The brothers mutter simultaneously. They share an impressed look and high five.

“This is bullying, y’know?”

“What’s wrong, Robin? You can dish it but you can’t take it?” Dean banters, smirking at her.

“What’s wrong, Dean? You woke up as an actual 16 year-old girl today?”

-

They spend, unsurprisingly, the rest of the morning in the library- except for Mary who returns to her bedroom with the CD player once Robin retrieves it for her. They rework their findings having no more new material to go through. It had finally happened. They had depleted all the books and texts the library had to offer on the cosmos and anything related to their situation, something that had seemed impossible weeks ago. Robin remembers when she’d walked out of their dungeon and found her way to this room, grand and somewhat mystical. It seems so much smaller now. Maybe because she’s paced its floor a few times over and has skimmed every single one of its shelves at least twice.

Sam notices that Robin doesn’t take her usual seat next to him but instead sits across the table by Dean. He also notices how freely they touch each other. Nothing risqué. Just a hand on a shoulder here. The tucking of hair behind an ear there. The adoring gazes.

“You guys finally gave in, huh?” Sam asks, mostly looking at his brother approvingly.

Robin and Dean look like children caught stealing cookies. Sam shakes his head fondly. 

“I’m going to go research in my room.” He suggests, shutting his computer screen and stacking a notepad and pen on top of it. He looks at them seriously. “I’m really glad.” He smiles then rounds the table.

“Thanks, Samurai.” Robin all but whispers, she didn’t realise she’d want Sam’s approval.

Sam stops in his tracks and turns slowly back to the pair, eyes wide. “I like that one.”

A smile bursts across Robin’s face. “Yeah?” She grins even wider. “Told you I was good.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head fondly for the second time, and walks out of the room saying something about nut jobs under his breath.

Robin jabs Dean in the arm. “I knew Samurai was a winner.” She gloats. “Shit,” She says suddenly. “Did you know there’s the word ‘win’ in ‘Winchester’?” She asks, realising it herself.

Dean rolls his eyes. “No, Robin, I never noticed after having the name for over thirty years.”

“Deanold, I think that’s the secret to your success.” She nods knowingly.

“Doubt it. What’s in a name, Robin, what’s in a name?”

Robin’s brows furrow. “Are you quoting Shakespeare?” 

“A Robin by any other name would smell just as sweet.”

“It’s startling to find out that you’re kind of a dork.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m rattled, to be honest.”

-

A few hours later, Dean notices Robin has pointedly positioned her computer so the screen is angled away from him. He monitors the situation for half an hour before taking action. 

“What are you hiding?” 

“Nothing!” Robin responds a little too loudly and a little too fast. 

“Robin.” Dean warns his voice low enough to send jolts of arousal through her body. She’s discovering all sorts of kinks.

“Fine, okay, jesus, don’t get growly.” She turns the computer to him.

He looks at it briefly. “Your blog?” He asks confused. “You’ve been updating it?”

“Well yeah, I can’t just disappear. Bad for business. I have a few articles on standby in case I fall behind, that’s what I’ve been uploading. That’s not the point though, look again.”

Dean does as he’s told and finally notices that there’s a new tab under the main ‘Life is Gouda’ banner. Last time he’d been on her site Robin had an index for ‘Kind of a big dill: Fine Dining’, ‘Bread sticks and scones may break my bones: Café Crawl’ and ‘The butter half: Diners of America’. Now though, there’s a fourth clickable link. ‘Live to pie another day: Pie.’ 

When Dean doesn’t say anything for a long while Robin starts to ramble. “It’s not a _thing._ Don’t get weird. I just thought it’d be fun for you. You thought the blog was cool when I first told you about it, and you’re an expert on pie if there ever was one. I can totally take it down, though if-”

He kisses her. It’s long and hard and Dean thinks he can kiss her every day of his life. He can kiss her and write about pie.

-

“It’s about damn time one of you showed me where the laundry room is.” Robin says shoving clothing into the washing machine.

“Why didn’t you just ask?” Dean says rolling his eyes.

She shrugs. “Felt like I’d be pushing my welcome.” She explains pressing the start button.

Dean steps behind her, trapping her between the appliance and his body, almost literally between a rock and a hard place. “Do you feel like that now?” He asks huskily, brushing her hair to the side to kiss her neck.

She nods. “I’ve packed my bags and everything.” She deadpans.

Dean growls and turns her around to face him. He kisses her roughly then pulls away. “I’m gonna make you eat your words, Robin Fera.” 

“I’ll do you one better.” She winks and moves them so he’s the one leaning against the washing machine. 

She slides down to her knees and starts to undo his belt. Dean’s knees all but buckle underneath him. “Jesus.” He says looking up and away from Robin, like the sight is too much. 

“Hmm.” Robin muses with Dean inches from her mouth. “Where did we fall on that? Jesus real? Jesus not real?”

“Robin.” Dean snaps.

“Okay, okay, yeesh. Can’t blame a girl for having a healthy curiosity.” She defends then takes him in her mouth. She’s going for long and slow where Dean seems to be opting for fast and dirty. She tease his tip, licks up the underside, presses a finger to his taint. Eventually, she gives in to Dean’s bucking and simple swallows him down almost completely.

“Fucking Christ!” Dean grunts. “You’re a goddamn menace.”

Robin wants to argue with him because she is most certainly no such thing but opts to let it slide if it means she gets to keep him moaning like he is.

The rumble and shake of the machine coupled with Robin’s tongue working magic sends him over the edge. He’s too blissed out to notice Robin tucking him back into his pants and rising to her feet. She gives him a peck. “I’m home, I think.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him again. 

They stay like that for an embarrassing amount of time, just kissing, and maybe fondling a little like a pair of teenagers, leaning against the washing machine. It buzzes twice before they finally drag themselves away from each other.

Once they’ve transferred the clothing to the dryer and they walk out of the room Dean confirms, “You are home.”

Robin believes him.

-

“I just don’t know what we can do.” Robin says. It’s hours later and she’s sitting in the library her head hanging over the back of the chair, her feet propped on the edge of the table. She twirls a feather over her face between two fingers. She found it in her hair and figures that it came from her pillow. She and Dean had made a pit stop in her bed on their way back from the laundry room. It was a good time and Robin’s knees and palms were only a little sore. That’s a win in her book. Two wins, actually, but who’s counting.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dean’s sitting in the seat next to her but unlike her he’s still hard at work, going through the books. 

“You’re right.” She sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure something out. We always do.” He assures. “We killed Death, once. Going after the cosmos isn’t that much of a stretch if it comes down to that.” He looks up at her. “Push comes to shove I’ll lock you up in the bunker where nothing can get to you,” He smirks. “But me.” 

She laughs and sits up straighter. When the movement squishes her stomach against her thighs she plants her feet on the floor. “I’d like to see you try, Winchester.” She winks. “No seriously, come at me.” She parts her knees suggestively.

He shakes his head disbelievingly at her then turns back to his work. “You’re insatiable.” He admonishes, smiling.

She sighs again. “I still don’t understand how we can fight the universe, though.”

He looks back at her. “I thought you told me to pick someone who could handle a target on her back.”

She smiles that smile he loves, the one that’s easy and giving. “Deanold, are yousaying you pick me?”

“I’m regretting it already.”

She laughs and stands, stretching. “I’ll do my best to keep it that way.”

“Where are you going?” He asks when she begins to turn.

“I,” She pauses to kisses him quickly. “Am going to go to the kitchen. Getting us some booze. I’m going to come back and we’re gonna drink it and then we’re gonna figure this shit out. Ain’t no cosmos getting me dead.” He laughs at her words. “Probably some dinner too. What time is it anyway- Sam? Are you okay?” She asks when she turns and sees Sam at the archway that leads to the kitchen. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Have you guys seen mom?” He asks, concern evident on his face.

That gets Dean’s attention. He turns in his seat to look at his brother. “She’s not in her room?”

Sam shakes his head. “She told me she needed air earlier today, when I stopped by after leaving the library. She said she was just going to go for a walk, but that was hours ago. She was acting weird. I think she took the CD player with her because I couldn’t find it just now.”

“I warned her about keeping it shut at least. Have you tried calling her?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, she won’t pick up.” Sam says and it looks like he’s going to burst into tears. Like he’s trying hard not to. “You don’t...You don’t think she left us again, do you?” He’s staring at his brother begging him to say what he wants to hear but also daring him to lie.

“I-” Dean starts.

“I’m right here, Sam.” Mary says approaching them from the front of the room.

“Mom, thank God.” Sam exhales with relief moving to hug her. He stills mid-step. “Mom. What are you doing? What’s that?”

Dean stands and looks at his mother. “Mom?”

Robin’s eyes settle on Mary’s right hand. Her stomach drops. She’s holding a syringe to the crook of her left elbow, the needle end already inserted in a vein.

“ _Mom_.” Dean repeats when she doesn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dean. I need to do this.”

“Mom, _no._ ” Sam pleads.

“It’s not right. I never should have been brought back. Especially not if an innocent girl needs to die for it. I heard it all in that recording.”

“No one is dying, Mom. We’re not going to let anything happen to Robin. Just put the syringe down.” Dean begs.

“Mom.” Sam slowly moves towards her, his hands up and out, defenseless. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“No!” She exclaims with bite. Sam freezes. “I don’t _belong_ here.”

“Of course you do.” Sam says heartbroken.

“No, I really don’t, Sam. I want to go back.”

“Go back where?” Dean asks, angry now.

“To heaven. To be with your father. To be with my boys.” Robin swears that there’s serenity on the woman’s face when she speaks the words.

“We are your boys.” Sam’s voice cracks.

“No, you’re not. Not really. I don’t know you.”

“ _I_ don’t know you.” Sam argues. “Let me get the chance to. Mom, _please.”_

“Mom listen to me and listen to me right goddamn now. Put. The syringe. Down.”

Mary puts her thumb on the plunger. 

Robin hears and feels the air get punched out of the collective lungs of the Winchesters. She steps forward. 

“Mrs Winchecter, I-”

Mary laughs but there’s a shrill to it. A bit of madness. “I’m going to kill myself for you sweetheart, I think you can call me Mary.” Robin wants to throw up.

“Mary. Don’t do this. Definitely not for me. Do you know what you’d be leaving me with?” She tries to kid. “These boys,” She points behind her. “You’ll destroy them. They’ve been through a lot and they’ve come out the other end but this, _you’ll destroy them._ They’ll be wrecked. Devastated. I want you to listen to me closely, Mary, they won’t survive this.”

“I can’t _stay._ ”

“You can’t _go._ You can’t _leave_ them, Mary. Do you realise what it means for them to have you back? Don’t take it away from them. Definitely don’t do it in my name.”

“I won’t let you die for me.”

“No one’s dying.”

“You will.” And it’s so grim Robin does throw up a little, only to swallow it back down. “I have to do this.” Her thumb moves.

“WAIT!” Robin yells lifting her hands up. She can feel the boys tense behind her. “Okay okay just wait. Maybe you’re right. Maybe one of us has to die. But not right now. No one is in danger right this instant.” Robin looks around as if to prove a point. “There’s no reason to rush into this.” Her eyes lock with Mary’s again, begging her to understand.

“There’s no reason not to.” Mary Winchester says as she pushes the plunger.

It hasn’t registered for Robin, the fact that Mary is dying, when the boys breeze past, on either side of her. They get to their mom before she even hits the ground, catching her mid-fall. They shake her and tap her face and beg for her to respond. Robin hears something clink and she thinks it’s the syringe falling to the floor after finally being pulled out. Robin doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand this happened. It feels like the world has ended. Like earth has spun off it’s axis. Like the planet is going to crash into the sun any second now so this nightmare can end.

She hears yelling. It’s Dean. He’s calling for Cas. _Cas_. The angel in a trench coat. She senses him. Doesn’t know how she does it. Doesn’t care. She turns and Castiel is there, looking solemn. Their eyes lock and Robin knows, knows that it’s too late.

“Cas fix her!” Dean orders. 

Robin turns back to the brothers. She gives herself props where props are due, because she was right. They look destroyed. Dean looks ready to tear the world apart with his bare hands and Sam looks beyond shell-shocked, staring at his dead mother in his arms, unaware of the tears spilling from his eyes.

“Dean she’s already gone.”

“Don’t. Don’t you _dare_ tell me that, Cas. You come here and you fix her.”

Robin turns her back to the brothers. She can’t see this. Can’t bear it. She needs- She _needs_ to go. Her eyes lock with Castiel’s again. In the background, she hears Dean yelling still. She doesn’t pay attention, though, can’t, because somehow, she and Cas are in a world on their own. Much like before, she doesn’t know how but she and Cas are on the same wave length. She doesn’t understand it and yet understands that she never will. She knows it’s happening though. She and Cas come to an understanding without speaking words. It’s frightening, she thinks for a moment. She thinks she sees Cas nod in agreement. Like he too is afraid. She ambles towards him on wobbly legs, a hand out. Behind her, she still hears Dean yelling, hears Sam sobbing. She thinks Dean is approaching them, she isn’t sure, doesn’t dare look. He feels so close, though, so close he could touch her. She touches Cas first and they’re gone.

When they reappear it’s in the kitchen. It takes Robin a second to steady herself on her feet.

_“I’m going to kill myself for you sweetheart, I think you can call me Mary.”_ Robin hears Mary say from the other room and wants to throw up all over again.

“You took me back.” She says, staring at Castiel. “How’d you know?”

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully.

“Thank you.” She whispers. She looks around and, with precious seconds ticking by, decides that a knife will have to do. 

_“You can’t_ go _. You can’t_ leave _them, Mary. Do you realise what it means for them to have you back? Don’t take it away from them. Definitely don’t do it in my name.”_ She hears herself say and it’s the strangest thing.

She grabs the knife and turns to exit the room. Castiel stops her with a hand on her arm. 

“The cosmos said that I’m not supposed to interfere. What if I’m not supposed to bring you here?” He asks, torn.

“What if you are. What if what you’re not supposed to do is stop me.” She smiles at him sadly. “I can’t let this happen to them, Cas. And I know that neither can you.”

Castiel hesitates. “Are you sure about this?”

She smiles again, less sad. “Unfortunately.”

_“I won’t let you die for me.”_

_“No one’s dying.”_

_“You will.”_

“WAIT!” Robin yells as she barges into the library, the knife clutched in her hand still. 

Dean does a double take. “Wh- wha- There’s two of you?”

“How?” Sam stutters.

Robin looks behind her but Cas is gone.

“It doesn’t matter.” She says turning back to the three Winchesters and...herself.

Her eyes lock with past her and it’s surreal. 

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter. Robin- Robins, what’s going on?” Dean freaks.

Present-Robin looks at her future self, can’t tear her eyes away. What she sees makes her heart heavy. Future-Robin is apologising to her. It’s in her eyes. In the way she’s carrying herself. Realisation dawns on Present-Robin and she understands. She knows what’s about to happen, what she’ll see herself do, what she’ll have to do herself. 

“Robin, what are you doing?” Dean says, an eery calm in the room.

Robin grips the knife tighter. “There’s no time” She murmurs. “I’m sorry.” She says to the room, having already made amends with herself. “I won’t let this happen.” She continues. She turns to herself one last time. “Say goodbye for us.” 

“Robin don’t!” She hears Dean yell. He moves to her but he isn’t fast enough.

She lifts her hand and pushes the knife into her chest, deep, to the hilt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It hurts. Jesus does it hurt. But it’s also nice. Being in Dean’s arms like this. She doesn’t think it’ll last. If she’s going to go though, she’s glad she gets to do it at home. Not her jeep, or this bunker even, but in Dean’s arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robin watches herself die. Cas appears before Dean even yells for him. She knew he would. She knows what she has to do. It’s strange though. She feels out of her own body, which she’s read about in books, it’s still not how she imagined it. It’s like being underwater. Everything is muted. She feels calm. Also not how she imagined she’d be in the face of death. She surveils the room. 

Sam is at his mother’s side, the syringe finally discarded of. Mary looks shell-shocked. Robin has a flash of Sam looking just like that. Right now though, he’s looking at her. He understands what happened. Understands what’s going to happen. Understands what Robin did and what she’s going to do. He looks at her and in his eyes Robin sees an apology. A prayer. A _thank you_. She nods at him. _You’re welcome._ He hugs his mother even closer to him. 

The bubble she’s in bursts when she turns to Dean and sees him stalking towards her, furious, covered in her blood and his own tears.

“What did you do?” He yells and all the sounds in the room come rushing to her. “ _What did you do, Robin?”_ He grips the sides of her arms and shakes her, staining her with blood as well. 

“You know.” She whispers. She does her best not to look over his shoulder. She doesn’t think she can stomach seeing herself.

“Cas!” Dean yells, ignoring her words, not taking his sight off her, his eyes promising hell to be payed when they get through this. “Save her.”

“There’s no one to save, Dean.” Cas says, voice as low and deep as ever. Robin thinks she’ll miss that. She wonders if Cas can visit her in heaven. Wonders if he’ll wear his trench coat or if he takes on his true form up there.

Dean turns to look at Robin, _the dead Robin,_ and swallows thickly when he sees the vacant space, not even a drop of blood in sight. He focuses back on Robin, _his Robin._ He hadn’t let go of her, practically flinging her around to turn her with him. Now she’s stood between Dean and Castiel.

“Robin.” Cas speaks a few feet behind her.

“I know, Cas.” 

“Don’t.” Dean snaps. “Don’t you dare, Robin. You can’t- You can’t _give me everything_ and then take it all back. You can’t leave me, you can’t do this.”

“Dean.” She chokes. 

“Please.” His wrath is gone and the word is despondent. He pulls her to his chest, wraps her in his arms and holds tight, keeping her with him. “Please, please, please.” He repeats over and over again until Robin can’t hear it anymore. Until it hurts to hear it.

She tilts her head up and pulls him down into a kiss. It’s all desperate attempts and chocking sobs and _love_. Robin thinks maybe she doesn’t have to die. Maybe they have enough between them, enough passion and will and strength and _love,_ to create a pocket outside of time. Where it can be just the two of them, like this, forever. Robin knows better though and far too soon she pulls away.

Dean holds her still when she tries to take a second step back. “I picked someone who can handle a target on their back, Robin. We can get through this.”

She smiles at him, tries to keep the sadness out of it. “You didn’t, Dean, but I believe that you will, eventually. You’ll pick someone great, someone right.”

“Ro-”

She interrupts his protest. “You wouldn’t survive her leaving you, Dean.” They both know she means Mary. “But you can survive this. You goddamn _survive_ this, you hear me?” 

She moves back, away from Dean and towards Castiel. When she slips completely out of Dean’s arms he grabs her hand fearfully pressing it to his chest. 

“Robin, _don’t._ ” He pleas.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

Dean closes his eyes. Like if he can’t see it happen then it won’t. He feels Robin’s hand against his sternum, holds on to the feeling of her presence with everything he’s got because this can’t happen. He won’t let it. “I lov-”

The hand on his chest is gone. He thinks he hears wings flutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was always how the fic was going to end, it's what the fic was about. Robin is the main character but this is so much more about Dean in my head. About him allowing himself to love someone who isn't necessarily family. About him allowing someone to love him back. About him finding an ease to life in the things he thought couldn't be easy. About him being saved for once. Of course even in a moment of victory, him getting to keep his family, he loses, and what's more Dean Winchester than that. Robin does all that for him.
> 
> There's more to the story. I've known what happens after from the start, the same way you know where your characters have been before the beginning of your story. In fact I've already written a few chapters of it. I want to know if you guys would like more of this, and if so if you'd life for the fic to just continue or have it becoming a series with a part two. Let me know in a comment :)
> 
> In fact, let me know anything and everything in the comments. I'd really like to know what you guys think of this chapter and of this fic. The good, the bad, the disarmingly beautiful (i.e. the winchesters). I'd appreciate it so much :)
> 
> Thank you again for reading! I sort of can't believe it's over. ahaha ok bye
> 
> @Jennifer, I hope that was tragic enough for you :P


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